Ex  Lxbris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 


ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

LETTERS  OF 
ELIZABETH   CABOT  PUTNAM 

Written  in  France 
May,  1 9 1 7  —  September,  1 9 1 8 


THE   RIVERSIDE   PRESS   CAMBRIDGE 
I919 


COPYRIGHT,  I919,  BY  MARIAN  C.  PUTNAM 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


310.  ^ 


P^S 


er 


To  the  memory  of 

James  Jackson  Putnam 

who  found  happiness  in  the  beauty 

of  sky  and  field  and  in  the  service 

of  his  fellow-men. 


C 


This  book  is  made  up  from  home 
letters  written,  it  need  hardly  be 
said,  without  thought  of  publica- 
tion. Each  one  of  the  men  and 
women  working  in  "the  zone  of  the 
rear"  has  seen  the  drama  of  the 
war  from  a  slightly  different  angle, 
and  has  his  own  contribution  to 
make  to  our  knowledge  of  what  has 
happened.  To  add  another  bit  to  the 
great  mosaic  is  my  excuse  for  offering 
my  daughter's  letters  to  the  public. 

M.  c.  P. 


CONTENTS 

I.  An  American  Hospital  for  French  Soldiers  i 

II.  An  American  Hospital  for  French  Soldiers 

(continued)  47 

III.  U.S.  Air  Service,  Paris  Headquarters  78 

IV.  "Bombed  last  night, 

Bombed  the  night  before"  131 

V.  After  ChAteau  Thierry  i  79 

VI.  A  U.S.  Base  Hospital  186 


ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

CHAPTER  I 

AN  AMERICAN  HOSPITAL  FOR  FRENCH  SOLDIERS 

On  board  S.S.  Chicago 

May  22,  1917 

When  I  left  Father  on  the  dock  I  thought  I  should 
certainly  burst ;  I  never  felt  so  awfully  in  my  life.  I 
looked  everywhere  for  him  on  the  wharf  until  the 
boat  sailed,  but  it  is  just  as  well  I  did  n't  see  him, 
for  I  should  probably  have  gone  on  shore  again  for 
good  if  I  had.  I  went  in  to  look  for  steamer  letters  and 
could  find  only  one,  which  was  rather  a  staggerer,  — 
but  about  fifteen  turned  up  later,  as  well  as  two 
books  and  a  great  basket  of  fruit  from  Uncle  Frank. 
This  boat  is  the  most  minute  thing  imaginable  and 
is  filled  twice  as  full  as  it  ought  to  be  because  the  boat 
of  the  week  before  was  taken  off.  In  consequence 
there  is  (for  over  three  hundred  passengers)  a  salon 
holding  about  twenty,  and  a  tiny  bar-smoking-room ; 
not  enough  steamer  chairs  to  go  round,  two  "serv- 
ices" of  the ^ meals;  four  people  in  rooms  that  are 
barely  equipped  for  two.  In  our  stateroom  there  are 
two  washstands,  two  tiny  drawers,  four  double 
hooks,  and  that  is  all.  Absolutely  nothing  in  the  way 
of  a  cupboard  or  closet.  My  room-mates  are  three 
young    Frenchwomen.    Two   are   actresses    (one   of 


2  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

them  married  and  returning  to  a  small  boy)  coming 
back  after  an  eight  months'  tour  in  Canada.  The 
other  has  been  over  (leaving  three  young  children)  to 
spend  several  months  with  her  husband  who  is  buy- 
ing horses  in  the  United  States  for  the  French  Gov- 
ernment and  has  been  for  two  years.  She  is  much 
higher  class  than  the  others  but  not  a  particle  more 
amiable.  They  are  all  very  good-natured,  though  not 
exactly  considerate  —  leaving  the  electric  light  burn- 
ing all  night,  for  example,  and  conversing  at  length 
when  they  are  called  for  their  bath  at  six  a.m.  How- 
ever, I  am  delighted  to  be  with  them,  for  I  learn  how 
to  apply  white-washes,  lip  and  cheek  rouge,  eyebrow 
pencils,  curling  irons  and  fake  curls  —  as  well  as  some 
French.  They  go  to  bed  at  eleven,  read  till  Heaven 
knows  when,  have  baths  at  six,  go  to  sleep  again, 
have  breakfast  in  bed,  and  spend  the  whole  rest  of 
the  morning  dressing.  If  any  of  us  were  sick  it  would 
be  awful,  but  we're  not.  For  my  part,  I  never  felt 
better.  The  first  two  days  were  absolutely  perfect,  and 
so  warm  that  you  sat  round  without  a  coat.  To- 
day was  much  colder,  overcast,  and  fairly  rough  — 
most  marvellous  electric  green  half  hidden  inside  the 
waves  —  spray  way  over  the  lifeboats  on  the  upper 
deck. 

I  am  sitting  (evening)  in  a  perfect  hullabaloo  — 
the  dining-room  full  of  men  (except  for  one  unbeliev- 
able siren)  smoking,  singing  to  the  ukulele,  and 
shouting  generally.  The  siren  has,  I  believe,  been  act- 
ing as  a  model  for  some  advertising  concern  in  St. 
Louis,  where  she  was  considered  so  bad  that  they  are 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  3 

shipping  her  home.  I  am  not  sure  whether  or  not  she 
is  French.  She  is  absurdly  rouged  and  belladonna-ed, 
has  champagne  hair  done  very  high  over  cushions, 
and  wears  enormous  ear-rings,  white  silk  stockings 
and  high-heeled  slippers,  and  a  very  slight  costume. 
Mr.  Sedgwick  assures  me  she  consumes  large  quanti- 
ties of  champagne  whenever  it  goes,  and  it  goes  very 
often,  as  you  get  here  for  two  dollars  what  you  pay 
eight  dollars  for  in  New  York. 

The  last  two  evenings  I  have  sat  out  on  the  deck 
near  enough  to  a  group  of  excellent  singers  to  be  able 
to  sing  with  them  unperceived.  One  evening  a  man 
came  along  and  sat  with  me,  in  the  pitch  dark  (no 
lights  allowed,  all  windows  covered),  and  we  had  a 
long  and  pleasant  talk  (he  was  a  travelling  man  from 
Oklahoma),  but  I  have  no  idea  what  he  looks  like  and 
he  probably  does  n't  realize  that  and  thinks  I  cut  him 
dead  next  day.  You  see  he  saw  me  when  he  opened 
the  door  to  let  me  in,  but  I  did  n't  like  to  turn  round 
and  stare  at  him. 

A  brilliant  pink  sunset  to-night  promises  fair 
weather  for  to-morrow.  We  don't  want  it  too  fair,  as 
submarines  can't  work  well  in  rough  seas.  We  have 
had  one  "drill"  which  consisted  in  putting  on  a  life- 
preserver  and  standing  at  a  given  place  on  the  deck. 

May  26 

I  don't  learn  as  much  French  as  you  'd  hope  from 

my  room-mates,  as  we  arrange  (or  rather  I  arrange, 

for  I  must  say  the  two  ladies  of  the  stage  do  just  as 

they  please)  never  to  be  there  together  except  in  the 


4  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

middle  of  the  night.  The  superiority  of  the  wife  of  the 
horse-buyer  becomes  every  day  more  apparent. 

The  last  two  evenings  I  have  listened  to  a  steady 
rush  of  talk  from  a  most  ingenuous  and  incongruous 
lad.  He  has  told  me  all  his  affairs  without  a  question 
from  me,  and  from  the  amount  he  knows  about  other 
people  on  the  boat  I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  it  is  my 
wonderfully  sympathetic  nature  that  has  drawn  him 
out.  He  comes  from  a  weirdly  named  town  in  Illinois, 
where  his  father  is  a  foreman  in  a  machine-shop.  He 
is  a  mechanic  himself  and  apparently  earns  upward 
of  two  hundred  dollars  a  month,  though  he  is  only 
twenty-one.  He  finds  he  can  get  no  further  without  a 
college  degree,  so  when  he  has  saved  enough  he  plans 
to  go  to  Tech.  He  lies  there  in  his  chair  thinking  of 
wonderful  ways  to  make  money,  and  he  is  going  to 
make  all  he  can  in  his  off-time  abroad  —  writing  for 
newspapers,  etc.  He  talks  a  great  deal  about  money, 
but  I  gather  that  he  wants  it  in  order  to  see  more  and 
learn  more.  He  has  told  me  all  about  his  "gurrl- 
friend"  whose  graduation  from  high  school,  for  which 
he  had  waited  four  years,  took  place  the  night  after 
he  left.  He  keeps  enunciating  high  moral  truths  in  the 
most  genuine  and  extraordinary  way ;  and  he  is  much 
puzzled  about  some  of  the  Bible  —  for  instance,  he 
has  heard  several  versions  of  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den 
and  doesn't  see  how  they  can  all  be  literally  true! 
He  wears  light  gloves  and  minds  tobacco  smoke; 
and  he  has  shovelled  forty  tons  of  coal  a  day  into  a 
furnace,  when  twenty  is  what  the  average  stoker 
can  do. 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  5 

The  queer  thing  about  the  passengers  is  that  they 
are  almost  all  between  twenty  and  thirty.  There  may 
be  some  few  boys  younger,  and  ten  or  so  older,  up  to 
forty,  perhaps. 

It  is  raining  to-day.  We  have  had  no  sun  since 
Monday.  We  are  due  Tuesday  night  or  Wednesday 
morning.  No  one  seems  to  worry  about  submarines 
—  the  French  least  of  all. 

May  27 
This  is  the  most  perfect  day  imaginable  —  just  the 
weather  for  the  Kayoshk  and  a  little  too  favorable  for 
submarines.  If  the  sleeping  accommodations  were  de- 
cent, and  the  weather  stayed  like  this,  I  should  wish 
the  voyage  three  weeks  longer. 

Last  night  most  of  us  slept  in  our  clothes  and  felt  it 
a  great  waste  when  we  w^oke  up  safe  and  sound  this 
morning.  I  am  never  parted  from  Arthur's  waistcoat 
and  Aunt  Amy's  whistle.  I  even  slept  in  the  waist- 
coat. To-night  we  are  to  make  no  noise  on  deck  and 
not  have  even  the  glow  of  a  cigarette.  The  injunction 
against  noise  is  most  necessary,  and  thanks  to  it  I 
hope  to  get  more  sleep  to-night.  .  .  .  The  boats  are  all 
swung  out,  ready  to  be  lowered.  We  expect  to  get  in 
to-morrow  night,  and  when  we  do  I  am  going  to  tele- 
graph to  the  Hotel  des  Etats  Unis  for  a  room  and  also 
to  Bob  on  the  chance  that  he  can  meet  me. 

It  makes  you  feel  awfully  queer  to  be  so  near  possi- 
ble submarines.  I  am  sure,  though,  that  if  we  are  hit 
we  shall  get  off  in  the  boats  all  right. 


6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

10  p.m. 

After  half  an  hour's  hard  work  I  am  ready  for  bed 
and  feel  that  I  must  tell  you  about  my  preparations. 
I  have  to  look  decently,  in  case  we  are  coules  during 
the  night,  and  yet  be  as  comfortable  as  possible  for 
the  uneventful  night  we  shall  probably  have.  I  have 
on  about  all  my  regular  clothes,  including  two  heavy 
underpockets  with  passport,  etc.,  my  huge  whistle 
round  my  neck,  and  the  Neversink  Waistcoat  on.  In 
the  pocket  of  the  latter  is  a  pair  of  spectacles.  Rolled 
up  at  the  head  of  my  bunk  is  my  long  coat,  and  in  its 
pockets  three  cakes  of  Dot,  a  piece  of  string,  and  a 
case  holding  hairpins  and  clean  handkerchiefs.  I  sit 
here  roaring  with  laughter  to  myself,  and  yet  the 
purser  has  just  been  to  Mr.  Sedgwick  to  say  he  un- 
derstood he  had  undressed  last  night  and  he  ought  not 
to  to-night.  You  know,  really  the  time  you  most  mind 
the  thought  of  submarines  is  when  you  are  in  your 
bath.  I  spend  about  five  minutes  arranging  my  clothes 
on  pegs  so  that  I  can  get  into  them  in  an  instant's 
time,  but  even  then  it  is  nervous  work. 

Well,  I  will  turn  in;  but  imagine  whether  I  shall  be 
warm,  waistcoat  and  all!  Not  a  porthole  on  the  ship 
open! 

May  29 
They  say  we  get  well  into  the  river  at  ten  or  eleven 
to-night  and  land  early  to-morrow  morning.  This  is 
our  last  day  and  I  can't  believe  it.  This  curious  ad- 
venture called  "going  to  France"  is  about  to  begin. 
I  feel  rather  swamped. 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  7 

Neuilly-sur-Seine,  June  5 
Well,  I  am  actually  here.  It  all  seems  so  natural 
that  I  can't  believe  I  am  not  still  at  home,  in  a  way. 
I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  all  kinds  of  silly  lit- 
tle things  about  how  I  arrived  and  what  I  did  next 
and  so  forth.  It  takes  so  long  to  write,  even  on  the 
typewriter,  and  I  ought  to  be  studying  my  French 
lesson  and  my  anatomy.  Everything  takes  so  much 
time!  It  takes  half  an  hour  to  get  in  to  Paris. 

Well,  to  go  back  to  the  boat.  The  last  afternoon  I 
was  down  in  my  stateroom,  in  more  or  less  undress, 
packing,  when  the  steward  came  rushing  down  and 
shouted  to  the  boys  in  the  room  opposite:  "A  tor- 
pedo!" The  boys  tore  off  at  once  and  I  thought  our 
last  hour  had  come,  and  started,  just  as  I  was,  for  the 
deck.  Luckily,  before  I  got  very  far  I  realized  that 
every  one  was  taking  it  very  calmly;  and  it  turned 
out  to  be  a  boat  that  had  been  sent  by  the  French 
Government  to  convoy  us.  That  evening,  about  half 
past  ten,  the  canvas  sides  to  the  deck  were  taken 
down  and  all  lights  lighted,  and  we  were  safe.  It  really 
was  very  exciting.  We  were  then  in  the  mouth  of  the 
river  and  anchored  there  for  the  night  on  account  of 
the  tide.  In  the  morning  I  made  a  slight  error  in  time 
(having  long  since  broken  my  watch)  and  arrived  on 
deck  at  six-thirty  instead  of  eight-thirty.  We  were  in 
a  most  lovely  river,  with  the  greenest  shores  you  ever 
saw  and  little  white  castles  or  lighthouses  or  some- 
thing, and  a  large  fleet  of  square-rigged  vessels  — 
which  have  been  pulled  out  of  their  hiding-places  in 
order  to  free  the  modern  boats. 


8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

All  morning  was  spent  in  the  most  hectic  endeavor 
to  get  our  luggage  vis6ed  by  the  douane  and  checked 
for  the  right  place ;  anything  worse  managed  I  have 
never  seen.  But  after  lunch,  with  free  minds  we  sat 
down  to  enjoy  the  countryside.  I  won't  try  to  de- 
scribe it,  because  there  is  n't  time  in  this  letter,  but  it 
was  almost  jungle-like  in  its  richness,  and  there  were 
terraced  vineyards  and  castles  and  everything  one 
could  ask.  We  got  on  shore  by  four  and  dumped  our 
things  at  the  hotel.  I  decided  to  forego  my  military 
pass  and  pay  my  own  fare,  as  I  should  have  had  to  sit 
up  all  night  in  a  third-class  compartment  with  two 
other  women  and  five  men.  By  spending  the  night  at 
Bordeaux  we  had  time  to  visit  a  most  unusually 
beautiful  cathedral  and  three  old  churches  —  one 
dating  from  the  eleventh  century,  where  Henry  Plan- 
tagenet  married  Eleanor  of  something  or  other.  I  had 
to  do  all  the  talking  in  French ! 

The  journey  next  day  was  well  worth  waiting  for. 
Such  enchanting  vil^  iges,  with  the  cottages  all  made 
of  the  same  kind  of  stone,  with  reddish  tiled  roofs 
grown  over  with  moss,  gardens  full  of  roses,  and 
everywhere  the  most  marvellous  green  trees  of  a  thou- 
sand different  sorts.  I  am  longing,  on  the  way  home, 
to  stop  off  at  some  one  of  the  little  villages,  for  they 
are  really  too  adorable.  Some  were  built  on  the  side  of 
a  steep  hill,  just  as  they  are  in  Italy.  And  every- 
where masses  and  masses  of  white  locust,  all  in  full 
blossom. 

Of  course  I  've  left  out  a  thousand  things  —  such  as 
the  queer  costumes  in  Bordeaux,  and  the  regiments 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  9 

coming  and  going ;  we  saw  two  negro  or  Algerian  regi- 
ments. In  Bordeaux,  too,  being  in  a  hotel  right  at  the 
railway  station,  we  saw  many  sad  partings  between 
families  and  men,  and  many  rapturous  meetings. 

We  reached  Paris  at  half-past  eight  in  the  evening 
and  drove  straight  to  the  Etats  Unis  —  and  there 
was  Bob  sitting  right  there,  writing.  He  looks  finely 
and  about  ten  years  younger  than  when  he  left.  I  was 
rarely  gladder  to  see  any  one. 

The  next  morning  I  reported  at  the  Ambulance  to 
the  very  charming  and  agreeable  Mrs.  Munroe,  who 
told  me  to  get  my  permis  de  s6jour  and  come  Monday 
morning  to  be  vaccinated  (I  should  have  been  before 
coming)  and  measured  for  my  uniform  and  have  my 
work  explained.  Which  I  did  and  it  was.  Then  I  went 
to  see  J.'s  friends  and  found  them  more  than  cordial 
and  so  attractive,  except  in  that  they  could  n't  take 
me  till  the  middle  of  July.  Thence  to  Madame  Lauth, 
whose  address  Mrs.  Parkman  gave  me,  and  I  am 
there  now,  until  the  middle  of  July,  when  she  goes 
out  of  town  and  I  go  to  the  Henris'.  I  really  am  in 
great  luck,  for  they  are  a  large  family  of  interesting 
and  very  musical  people.  The  father  is  a  doctor,  a 
specialist  in  tuberculosis,  and  is  a  perfect  darling.  He 
is  about  sixty-five,  I  should  say,  and  had  given  up 
practice  before  the  war;  but  now  he  spends  ten  to 
twelve  hours  a  day  in  the  tuberculosis  ward  of  a 
French  military  hospital.  Even  so,  he  finds  energy  to 
give  me  a  French  lesson  which  I  enjoy  to  the  utmost  — 
Father  would  like  to  hear  him  mimic  my  e  —  he  shouts 
at  me  when  I  do  wrong  and  pats  my  hand  or  hugs 


lo  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

me  when  I  do  right  —  and  then,  later  in  the  evening, 
plays  on  the  piano  or  'cello.  The  son,  Henri,  of  seven- 
teen or  eighteen,  is  almost  a  genius  at  music  and  can 
play  anything,  right  off  the  bat,  on  the  violin  or  pi- 
ano. There  is  a  daughter  of  twenty- four  and  three 
young  French  girls,  boarders,  who  are  studying  one 
thing  or  another,  and  an  American  woman.  They  all 
talk  French  all  the  time,  naturally,  and  I  can't  say  I 
get  an  awful  lot  of  the  general  conversation,  —  be- 
cause they  talk  about  real  things  and  that  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  saying  that  you  want  a  hot  bath  or  a  cup 
of  tea.  My  French  is  adequate  for  getting  what  I 
need,  but  not  for  talking.  However,  I  am  sure  to 
learn,  and  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  at  the  Ambu- 
lance to  talk  with  the  men  to  my  heart's  content. 
The  house  Is  a  regular  city  house,  but  has  a  large  gar- 
den behind,  with  big  trees,  where  we  have  our  supper. 
Heaven  be  praised,  I  think  I  can  hold  down  the  job. 
In  fact  it  apparently  will  not  take  all  my  time,  so, 
later,  when  I  have  mastered  French  and  got  the  job 
down  to  a  fine  point,  I  shall  ask  for  more  work.  My 
work  as  historian  is  about  as  follows.  Each  patient 
(all  French,  of  course)  comes  in  with  a  certain  num- 
ber of  papers  scribbled  in  atrocious  handwritings, 
sometimes  in  pencil,  from  a  poste  de  secours  or  other 
hospitals,  and  on  entering  the  Ambulance  a  card  is 
given  him  to  be  filled  out  by  me.  From  the  various 
papers  I  find  out  his  name,  address,  regiment,  ward 
and  bed  number,  where  wounded,  when,  by  what, 
first  dressing,  how  soon,  following  dressings  (oh,  no, 
I  forgot,  you  only  get  the  first  six  things  from  the 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  ii 

papers,  and  also  what  the  first  diagnosis  was;  the 
others  you  get  from  him);  also  what  operations  he 
has  had  and  what  they  were.  If  he  has  an  X-ray  you 
examine  it  and  try  to  find  out  for  yourself  what  it 
shows.  You  try  to  gather  what  the  present  diagnosis 
is,  and  if  you  can't,  you  ask  the  doctor.  The  doctor  is 
as  good-natured  as  possible,  but  it  is  apparently  poor 
form  to  ask  him  anything  you  could  possibly  guess 
for  yourself.  But  what  you  can't  guess,  and  the  final 
note  of  evacuation,  you  ask  him  for.  All  this  informa- 
tion has  to  be  written  both  in  French  and  in  English. 
I  have  borrowed  an  anatomy  book  from  the  doctor 
with  whom  I  live  and  shall  have  to  learn  all  the 
bones,  etc.,  in  French. 

Curiously  enough,  you  don't  seem  much  nearer 
the  war  here  than  you  do  at  home.  Of  course,  there 
are  all  the  wounded  men,  when  you  have  time  to  take 
them  in,  and  every  other  person  —  more  —  in  the 
street  is  in  heavy  mourning;  and  the  car  conductors 
are  women;  and  sugar  is  scarce.  But  Paris  is  just  the 
same  big,  busy  city  it  was  when  we  were  here  before, 
as  far  as  I  can  see.  If  I  were  more  equal  to  taking  in 
the  talk  I  suppose  I  should  know  more.  Of  course,  so 
far,  I  have  spent  almost  all  my  time  getting  a  permis 
de  s6jour,  which  I  have  n't  yet  achieved.  My  photo- 
graphs were  too  big  and  we  had  to  traipse  all  around 
to  find  a  photographer  —  the  first  six  we  tried  be- 
ing closed  "a  cause  de  mobilisation."  In  that  kind  of 
practical  way  —  too  little  coal  to  have  hot  baths  or 
to  have  the  elevators  in  the  big  stores  run  more  than 
half  the  day  —  you  do  feel  the  difference. 


12  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

On  Sunday  Mr.  Sedgwick  and  Mr.  Davis  and  I 
went  to  the  Sainte  Chapelle  and  Notre  Dame,  and  then 
Mr.  Sedgwick  took  me  to  lunch  with  a  cousin  of  his 
who  works  at  the  Ambulance.  Mr.  Sedgwick  has  cer- 
tainly been  good  to  me.  This  afternoon  when  I  am  in 
town  —  I  have  had  to  go  in  every  day  since  I  came 
—  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  a  ticket  for  a  service  next 
Sunday  at  Notre  Dame  in  memory  of  fallen  Belgians. 
I  read  about  it  in  the  paper  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be 
interesting.  Sunday  afternoon  I  took  a  walk  in  the 
Bois.  Everything  is  such  a  distance  here !  And  it  is  as 
hot  as  July  —  with  cool  nights,  however. 

June  9 
I  got  my  first  letters  from  home  yesterday  and  you 
may  believe  I  was  glad  to  have  them. 

I  wish  Father  were  living  here  because  he  would 
like  this  family  so  much.  I  am  really  uncommonly 
glad  to  be  with  them,  and  Madame  Lauth  said  to  tell 
you  they  were  tres  contents  to  have  me  and  felt  that 
I  was  a  real  friend.  People  come  to  the  house  more  or 
less,  so  I  have  a  chance  to  hear  them  all  talk  to- 
gether —  though  I  may  say  right  here  that  I  am  aw- 
fully slow  at  learning,  even  to  understand.  Dr. 
Lauth  is  a  charmer  and  I  love  the  lessons  I  have  with 
him.  I  read  long  poems  of  Lamartine  and  selections 
from  Chateaubriand,  and  he  criticises.  My  e  is  like  a 
bleat. 

I  wish  each  day  were  six  times  as  long,  so  that  I 
could  spend  a  whole  day  at  the  Ambulance,  another 
learning  French  and  reading  "War  Wounds,"  and  a 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  13 

third  in  visiting  people  and  places  and  writing  letters. 
To-morrow  is  Sunday  and  I  can  answer  some  of  my 
steamer  letters,  but  I  have  to  arrange  my  wash  for 
three  weeks  and  fix  my  tabliers  d'infirmiere,  which 
are  too  small  in  the  waist  and  too  long.  I  leave  here  at 
three-thirty  to  go  to  Notre  Dame,  and  am  counting 
on  doing  lots  of  studying. 

Later 
We  have  just  been  having  a  wonderful  evening  of 
music  —  a  Beethoven  trio  for  'cello,  violin,  and  pi- 
ano, and  other  trios,  and  a  Bach  thing  for  voice  ac- 
companied by  the  three,  and  selections  from  "Or- 
pheus" for  the  same.  Henri,  the  lad  of  seventeen, 
who  finishes  his  lyc^e  in  a  few  weeks,  played  alter- 
nately violin  and  piano,  and  his  teacher,  an  orchestra 
leader,  played  first  violin.  Finally  Henri  played  mar- 
vellously on  the  piano;  and  afterwards  his  mother  just 
said,  "Think  of  all  that  music  going  to  the  war.  War 
is  cruel."  She  has  lost  her  older  boy  in  the  war  al- 
ready, though  from  diphtheria,  not  from  wounds  — 
and  Henri  starts  training,  in  artillery  as  an  engineer, 
as  soon  as  he  graduates.  He  is  an  uncommonly  nice 
boy,  with  the  best  manners,  fundamental  and  super- 
ficial, I  ever  saw.  Poor  Madame  Lauth  is  a  person  of 
very  strong  feelings,  very  active  and  keen,  as  if  she 
would  soon  burn  herself  out. 

You  have  to  laugh  a  great  deal  at  the  Ambulance 
because  the  men  laugh  all  the  time.  It  is  so  abso- 
lutely different  from  an  ordinary  hospital.  Most  of 
the  men  are  in  excellent  condition,  and  when  they  are 


14  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

not  new,  or  newly  operated  on,  or  having  their 
wounds  dressed,  they  are  apparently  in  uproariously 
good  spirits.  They  believe  in  taking  one  day  at  a  time, 
I  guess,  and  the  relief  of  being  out  of  the  trenches 
must  be  great.  Anyhow,  they  are  always  making 
jokes  and  poking  fun  at  each  other  and  at  the  nurses. 
Most  of  them  try  to  learn  a  little  English,  and  I  shall 
get  some  kind  of  French-English  book  for  beginners. 
I  think  also  that  I  can  read  aloud  to  them  —  Arsene 
Lupin  —  to  our  mutual  edification.  In  the  morning, 
with  dressings,  etc.,  everything  is  very  busy,  but  in 
the  afternoon  there  is  a  pleasant  sense  of  leisure,  and 
I  can  foresee  much  delightful  companionship  with 
the  men  when  I  am  abreast  with  my  job.  The  doctor 
is  a  Pittsburgh  man.  He  Is  very  good-natured  and 
ready  to  be  asked  any  questions  and  to  show  you 
what  Is  going  on  In  a  surgical  way.  He  says  I  may  see 
some  operations  later.  There  is  no  point  In  my  going 
into  a  description  of  the  wounds  for  I  don't  know 
enough;  they  are  terrible  and  when  you  see  the  men 
laughing  and  fooling  you  can't  believe  theirs  are  as 
bad ;  but  then  you  see  theirs  dressed  the  next  morn- 
ing and  they  are  just  as  bad.  Sometimes  the  wounds 
are  very  evident,  for  they  expose  them  to  the  sun,  in 
the  window  or  in  the  garden.  And  speaking  of  gar- 
dens, one  of  the  chief  rose-growers  of  France  is  a 
worker  at  the  Ambulance  and  he  has  given  beds  of 
the  most  beautiful  roses  I  have  ever  Imagined  —  more 
beautiful.  They  are  good-sized  roses  on  low  bushes 
and  are  every  shade  from  pale  yellow  to  deep  red  — 
unbelievable  shades  of  orange  and  buff.  The  whole 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  15 

hospital  is  most  attractive  —  at  least  in  this  weather 
—  and  some  one  sends  in  flowers  (of  which  the  streets 
are  full)  for  the  wards  every  week. 

There  are  two  enormous  dining-rooms  full  of  peo- 
ple, for  all  the  ambulanciers  of  the  Paris  Service  eat 
there,  too.  My  work  is  all  on  one  corridor;  seven 
wards  of  ten  beds  each  —  63  to  69,  tell  Jamie,  on  the 
ground  floor,  across  the  end  farthest  from  the  front 
door.  I  should  imagine  this  hospital  was  as  well 
equipped  as  any  at  home,  though,  of  course,  I  don't 
know.  Four  of  my  wards  are  of  officers  and  three  of 
poilus. 

June  II 
I  have  only  just  begun  to  get  into  my  work, 
though  it  seems  to  me  as  if  last  Monday,  when  I  be- 
gan doing  more  or  less,  was  a  hundred  years  ago ;  it  is 
extraordinary  to  think  that  it  was  only  a  week  ago 
that  I  was  vaccinated  and  introduced  to  my  prede- 
cessor and  measured  for  my  —  cap  and  gown,  I  was 
going  to  say,  and  it  is  cap  and  dress.  I  wear  —  or 
shall  when  the  dressmaker  sees  fit  to  bring  me  my 
dress  —  a  rather  bright  Copenhagen  blue  dress  with 
white  muslin  collars  and  cuffs,  a  big  white  apron  cov- 
ering almost  all  the  skirt  and  having  a  square  tab  in 
front  with  shoulder  straps,  and  a  little  white  muslin 
cap  a  good  deal  like  what  girls  wear  in  a  choir. 

One  gets  awfully  fond  of  the  men  almost  at  once, 
they  are  so  very  friendly,  and  so  childlike  in  their 
capacity  for  enjoyment.  It  gives  them  the  most  ex- 
quisite pleasure  to  say  "Good  morrning,  Mees  Pet' 


i6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

nam,"  in  English;  they  only  know  my  name  in  one 
ward,  where  they  were  trying  especially  to  learn 
English  and  where  I  insisted  on  their  calling  me  prop- 
erly. Other^vise  they  just  call  all  the  auxiliaries 
"Mees."  To-day  I  met  one  of  my  blesses  on  the 
street,  en  permission,  and  he  recognized  me  before  I 
fairly  saw  him,  and  you  can't  imagine  what  a  thrill  it 
gave  me  —  I  feel  as  though  I  were  really  part  and 
parcel  of  it  now. 

My  actual  work  won't  be  hard  at  all  when  once  I 
have  learned  the  vocabulary.  Just  at  present  it  is  a 
little  puzzling  to  have  to  translate  the  diagnosis  of 
entrance  and  discharge,  and  the  treatment,  into 
French.  The  doctor  knows  almost  no  French.  How- 
ever, it  is  a  limited  vocabulary,  and  I  am  learning  it 
—  I  know  all  the  ordinary  bones  and  organs  and  a 
good  many  operative  words.  The  hardest  thing  is  tak- 
ing the  notes  that  have  been  written  by  hand  —  and 
a  villainous  one  —  by  French  doctors  in  the  ambu- 
lances the  bless6  has  been  to  before  reaching  Paris, 
and  making  sense  out  of  them  enough  to  boil  them 
down,  in  case  there  was  an  operation,  or  pass  them 
over  if  there  has  been  none  —  just  getting  from  them 
the  original  diagnosis  and  the  vulnerative  agency, 
which  is  almost  invariably  6clat  d'obus.  I  think  I  shall 
learn  a  good  deal,  for  I  have  a  very  nice  doctor  and 
can  always  watch  the  dressings  and  ask  any  questions 
I  want  —  provided  the  medecin  chef  is  not  present ; 
if  he  is,  the  strictest  silence  is  preserved,  although  he 
is  a  very  pleasant,  understanding,  rather  young  man, 
who  certainly  does  n't  look  as  if  he  were  a  stickler 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  17 

for  form.  I  dare  say  that  might  be  the  same  in  any 
hospital. 

...  I  have  been  building  blocks  this  evening  with 
an  awfully  cunning  and  fearfully  bright  little  girl  of 
four,  daughter  of  the  cook  here,  who  informs  you, 
with  questioning,  that  her  father  is  "a  la  guerre" 
where  "il  tue  les  Boches,"  and  that  she  does  n't  like 
"Guillaume"  "parcequ'il  a  fait  mal  k  Papa"  —  all 
with  the  utmost  cheerfulness.  If  anything  goes  wrong 
with  her  she  says,  "C'est  la  guerre."  Her  poor  father 
has  n't  been  heard  from  since  the  first  month  of  the 
war,  and  no  one  knows  whether  he  is  alive  or  dead. 

June  13 
I  wish  Jamie  were  here,  to  see  if  the  Ambulance 
has  advanced  a  good  deal  since  191 5.  Was  Dakin's 
solution  the  thing  then?  It  is  a  disinfectant  which 
hangs  in  a  glass  vessel  over  the  bed  and  is  turned  on 
every  so  often,  and  —  I  thought  allowed  to  run  for 
an  hour  at  a  time.  Thus,  when  the  nurse  left  the  other 
day  and  told  me  to  turn  on  two  Dakin  things  at  two 
o'clock,  I  almost  inundated  one  man  by  leaving  it 
running.  Fortunately  there  was  very  little  in  the  ves- 
sel, and  the  other  man  was  able  to  make  me  under- 
stand the  idea  —  namely,  that  you  turn  it  on  for  two 
seconds  only.  But  I  spent  an  awful  night,  that  night, 
because  I  suddenly  remembered  that  the  solution 
burns  the  skin  and  that  the  skin  around  the  wound  is 
carefully  covered  by  oiled  silk  for  that  reason  —  and 
I  knew  the  man's  back  had  got  wet  and  had  visions  of 
him  with  no  skin  left.  Next  day  he  was  as  well  as 


i8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

ever.  I  imagine  the  extensions  are  much  more  elabo- 
rate than  when  Jamie  was  here.  I  will  write  him  about 
some  of  them,  some  day  at  the  Ambulance.  .  .  . 

June  17 
The  event  of  the  week  has  been  the  arrival  of 
Pershing  —  whom  the  French  call  by  every  name  ex- 
cept his  own,  including  "Pere  Ch6ri"  —  and  that 
was  very  exciting.  Not  that  anything  in  particular 
happened  —  they  had  not  put  his  arrival  in  the  pa- 
pers, and  though  there  was  a  very  enthusiastic  crowd 
it  was  not  a  large  one  —  at  the  Crillon  Hotel,  that  is; 
I  believe  it  was  bigger  at  the  station.  I  was  in  the 
hotel  lobby  when  he  came  in,  so  I  got  a  good  look  at 
him  and  thought  him  a  very  decent  representative  of 
the  race.  After  he  went  upstairs  I  went  out,  thinking 
all  was  over,  and  found  that  Joffre  was  just  coming. 
It  made  you  weep  to  hear  the  French  cheer  Joffre;  I 
never  heard  anything  like  it;  and  they  all  looked  so 
devoted  to  him  and  so  full  of  joy  at  his  return.  Of 
course,  Pershing  did  not  get  anything  like  the  en- 
thusiasm Joffre  did  —  quite  properly  —  on  this  first 
appearance,  but  then  the  crowd  started  crying,  "Au 
balcon!  Au  balcon!"  with  a  rhythm  like  a  cheer, 
and  Pershing  came  out  on  his  balcony  and  bowed  and 
smiled,  and  then  there  was  a  roar  of  "Vive  I'Ame- 
rique,"  I  can  assure  you.  It  made  me  wildly  proud  and 
perfectly  sick.  I  am  as  bad  as  Aunt  B,  these  days,  for 
crying,  and  if  I  am  to  get  on  with  this  letter  I  must 
leave  this  subject  and  tell  you  about  the  service  last 
Sunday  at  Notre  Dame.  Except  this :  I  waved  my  flag 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  19 

up  above  the  crowd  when  Pershing  was  in  the  bal- 
cony and  felt  sure  he  saw  it  and  smiled  at  me  —  but 
as  I  heard  four  other  people  say  the  same  thing,  I  sup- 
pose it  was  not  so. 

I  enclose  the  programme  of  the  service  at  Notre 
Dame.  It  really  was  the  most  beautiful  singing  I  al- 
most ever  heard  —  coming  from  everywhere  and  no- 
where at  once.  We  were  at  the  very  back  of  the  church. 
I  think  the  music  was  almost  more  wonderful  there, 
where  it  seemed  to  be  born  and  not  made.  The  organ- 
ist, you  will  notice,  was  that  very  same  Widor  whose 
name  appears,  as  composer,  on  every  organ  recital 
you  ever  went  to  in  Boston.  The  long  discourse,  of 
course,  I  could  not  understand  —  we  were  not  nearly 
near  enough  to  hear  the  words  distinctly  —  and  we 
could  not  see  any  of  the  ceremonial.  However,  the 
music  took  most  of  the  time.  After  the  service,  I  went 
with  Mr.  Sedgwick  to  a  very  gay  restaurant  called 
the  **Caf6  de  Paris"  where  we  had  the  most  delicious 
—  and  far  the  most  expensive,  thank  Heaven  — 
meal  I  have  ever  eaten.  Food,  like  everything  else,  is 
horribly  expensive,  most  of  the  ordinary  things  having 
tripled  in  price ;  and  coal  is  terrible  —  the  amount 
that  used  to  cost  forty  francs  now  costs  about  two 
hundred  and  thirty  francs.  For  that  reason  hot  water 
is  a  great  luxury  and  washing  poorly  done. 

The  day  I  went  In  to  greet  Pershing  I  saw  a  hand 
waving  through  an  iron  fence,  and  there  was  Louisa, 
looking  more  ridiculously  natural  than  any  one  I 
have  seen  yet;  no  amount  of  foreign  country  will  af- 
fect her.  After  a  few  minutes  Penelope  came  to  join 


20  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

her.  They  are  coming  out  Tuesday  to  see  the  Am- 
bulance. 

Another  thing  I  did  last  week  was  to  visit  the 
"  Petit  Ouvroir  du  Gros  Caillou,"  where  the  girls  and 
women  of  the  quarter  are  given  sewing  to  do  —  ex- 
quisite lingerie  —  and  their  families  looked  after  gen- 
erally. You  go  through  the  door  of  a  perfectly  ordinary 
house,  and  come  out  into  a  courtyard  that  is  almost 
like  Guillaume  le  Conquerant.  The  houses  go  round 
three  sides  of  the  court,  which  has  trees  and  shrubs 
and  a  tiny  vegetable  garden  in  it;  the  part  of  the 
house  opposite  the  Ouvroir  has  carved  window 
frames  and  balconies,  and  kings  and  queens  painted 
in  faded  colors  on  the  wooden  wall.  Paris  is  so  unex- 
pected :  you  are  always  going  through  houses  into  de- 
lightful little  courts;  but  this  is  far  the  best  I  have 
seen. 

My  work  is  pretty  well  in  hand  now.  I  want  to 
learn  a  little  nursing,  but  I  don't  want  to  let  go  of  the 
history  work,  for  if  there  is  an  attack  near  here  there 
will  be  plenty  of  that  to  do  and  I  would  rather  do  it 
than  just  nursing.  The  men  don't  seem  to  want  to 
make  things,  much,  so  I  shan't  have  a  chance  to  do 
much  that  way.  One  of  the  English  nurses  with  whom 
I  talked  said  they  were  so  different  from  the  Tom- 
mies, who  always  wanted  to  be  doing  and  making 
things;  but  these  men  liked  to  have  things  done  for 
them.  They  do  certainly  enjoy  talking,  though,  and 
so  do  I.  And  they  like  little  attentions.  I  spent  the 
first  of  my  give-away  money  yesterday  —  two  francs! 
—  on  some  sweet  peas  for  the  two  worst  cases  — 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  21 

young  men,  both  of  them,  with  such  sad  faces.  Their 
cases,  I  dare  say,  will  not  be  bad  eventually,  but  for 
some  time  past  they  have  been  suffering  greatly.  On 
our  Fourth  of  July  I  plan  to  give  each  of  my  seventy 
men  a  tiny  bouquet  of  red,  white,  and  blue  flowers, 
just  a  boutonniere;  I  know  they  will  like  that.  I 
think,  however,  that  most  of  my  money  will  go  into 
artificial  legs.  The  Government  provides  only  a 
broomstick,  and  such  good  legs  can  be  got  with 
money  —  good  to  use  and  good-looking.  Then  there 
is  also  the  question  of  providing  for  the  wives  when 
they  come  up  to  visit  the  men ;  they  get  a  reduction 
in  the  railway  fare,  but  I  don't  think  they  are  put  up 
free  anywhere  after  they  get  here.  In  the  hospital 
the  men  are  really  very  well  provided  for.  There  is  a 
French  and  English  library,  where  they  can  go  or 
have  books  sent  down,  and  there  are  plenty  of  pic- 
ture puzzles;  but  they  don't  seem  to  be  used  much  by 
the  men  in  my  corridor  —  either  puzzles  or  books. 
Any  one  who  wants  to  do  bead-work  or  make  baskets 
or  do  other  such  things  is  taught  how  and  given  ma- 
terials. It  is  awfully  different  in  the  little  country 
hospitals.  I  talked  yesterday  with  a  nurse  who  had 
been  in  a  small  hospital  at  Lyons  and  she  said  the 
people  of  the  town  seemed  to  take  no  interest  in  the 
hospital  and  never  visited  the  men  or  brought  them 
any  flowers  or  fruit,  and  that  the  hospital  fare  was 
not  nearly  as  good  as  it  is  here. 

To  return  to  the  men ;  —  there  are  two  entirely 
different  kinds  of  enjoyment  to  get  from  them  and 
give  to  them,  according  to  whether  they  are  poilus  or 


22  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

officers.  Of  course,  that  is  natural,  only  it  took  me 
several  days  to  find  it  out.  With  the  poilus  you  be- 
have as  if  they  were  children,  and  jolly  them  along, 
and  they  jolly  you  back  and  are  always  shouting  out 
jokes  and  making  more  or  less  noise.  I  read  aloud  to 
two  of  them  and  they  correct  my  pronunciation  and 
make  terrific  jokes  about  the  ecole  and  the  profes- 
seur,  and  insist  on  my  asking  for  permission  of  just 
so  many  hours  whenever  I  am  not  coming  that  day. 
And  they  smoke  while  I  read,  and  knock  the  ashes 
out  on  to  the  floor.  The  officers  are  just  the  most 
delightful,  cultivated,  and  charming  lads  that  ever 
were  —  young,  almost  every  one,  about  twenty-two. 
They  have  their  own  china  and  their  own  clothes, 
more  or  less,  and  colored  silk  socks,  and  have  their 
shoes  shined  for  them,  and  get  to  be  very  particular 
about  their  appearance.  There  is  one  aviator,  in  par- 
ticular, wounded  (to  his  great  disgust)  in  his  very 
first  battle,  who  has  no  mustache  and  therefore  looks 
very  homelike,  who  is  a  dream  of  beauty  in  his  violet 
pajamas,  and  just  as  agreeable  as  can  be.  But  he 
wants  what  he  wants  when  he  wants  it!  All  these 
particular  officers  speak  excellent  English. 

The  weeks  go  like  flashes  when  I  am  in  them  and 
seem  a  hundred  years  long  in  looking  back.  The  ther- 
mometer registers  from  82°  to  84°  and  feels  worse. 
Write  very  often  —  everybody  about  once  a  week,  I 
should  say. 

June  19 

Penelope  and  Louisa  have  just  been  out  here, 
seeing  the  Ambulance  and  then  coming  to  tea  chez 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  23 

Madame  Lauth,  and  my  word,  they  are  nice!  While 
they  are  waiting  for  their  hospital,  which  is  being 
moved  from  St.  Valerie  to  Evreux,  they  are  working 
at  the  French  Wounded  and  at  a  canteen  at  the  Gare 
de  I'Est.  I  am  going  there  with  them  Saturday  from 
five  to  eight  and  think  I  shall  arrange  to  go  regularly 
two  afternoons  a  week.  They  serve  meals  at  the  sta- 
tion all  day  long  to  men  who  have  come  from  the  coun- 
try on  their  way  to  the  front  and  can't  afford  a  decent 
meal  in  Paris,  and  men  en  permission  who  are  on 
their  way  to  the  country.  The  girls  say  the  place  is  al- 
ways going  full  force,  every  one  working  just  as  hard  as 
she  can,  and  very  dirty.  It  will  make  a  good  contrast 
to  the  Ambulance,  where  everything  is  airy  and  sunny 
and  in  perfect  order  and  cleanliness. 

You  never  could  guess  what  I  did  Sunday  last  —  a 
day  when  it  was  89° :  I  went  to  Paris  because  I  had 
never  delivered  that  bundle  that  was  sent  me  from 
California  and  went  way  over  to  the  Latin  Quarter 
and  up  five  flights  of  stairs  and  there  found  a  delight- 
ful young  woman  in  a  lovely  pink  silk  negligee,  who 
showed  me  her  charming  apartment  (overlooking  a 
huge  convent-yard  full  of  trees,  and  an  old  convent) 
and  gave  me  a  bath !  —  in  a  lovely  new  American 
bathroom,  all  white  porcelain,  with  cologne  in  the 
water  and  a  great  big  bath-towel. — The  first  real  bath 
I  have  had  since  the  first  night  in  Paris.  I  shall  never 
forget  that  bath.  And  she  invited  me  to  come  in  and 
have  another  sometime!  Such  hospitality  is  perfec- 
tion. 

The  weather  has  seemed  very  hot,  though  it  has 


24  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

not  gone  above  89°,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  pity 
those  men  lying  in  bed  with  three  or  four  inches  of 
dressings  round  their  arms  and  legs,  or  in  plaster 
casts.  If  there  is  any  wind  it  blows  through  the  wards 
beautifully,  but  most  days  there  is  n't. 

I  saw  a  girl  to-day  who  had  just  landed  In  Bor- 
deaux. They  were  fired  at  twice  and  sent  seven  shots 
in  response;  two  days  from  land!  But  of  course  you 
have  seen  that  in  the  papers  —  probably  before  I 
knew  it.  She  had  n't  slept  for  seventy-two  hours. 

June  25 
How  the  boys  can  stand  the  pain  as  they  do,  I 
can't  imagine.  There  is  one  awfully  good-looking  boy 
of  twenty-two,  Michel  Aurnaque  by  name,  who  has  a 
compound  fracture  of  the  right  radius  and  ulna  and 
of  the  left  tibia  and  fibula.  He  has  an  overhead  exten- 
sion of  the  arm  and  leg,  and  the  leg  fracture  was  so 
near  the  foot  that  a  steel  bar  had  to  be  put  through 
the  heel  for  an  extension  of  eight  pounds!  It  was  put 
on  the  loth  of  May  and  had  just  been  taken  off  when 
I  began  work,  about  June  4th.  He  never  said  a  word 
while  all  that  was  going  on ;  but  he  certainly  made  a 
fuss  the  other  day  when  he  had  a  boil  behind  his  ear! 
He  is  a  farmer  from  the  borders  of  France  and  Spain. 
I  went  the  round  of  my  wards  with  the  dressing- 
cart  the  other  day  —  I  don't  mean  doing  anything, 
just  watching.  I  saw  the  forearm  of  a  boy  which 
seemed  to  amount  to  almost  nothing  —  just  part  of 
the  bone  (the  full  length,  pretty  nearly,  but  split) 
and  the  skin  and  flesh  about  half  the  way  round ;  all 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  25 

the  rest  gone,  from  elbow  (interior  surface)  to  wrist; 
the  X-ray  when  he  came  showed  the  two  bones  bent 
almost  into  a  Z ;  he  also  had  a  high  amputation  of  one 
leg,  but  the  arm  was  worse. 

I  have  not  seen  any  operations  yet,  but  the  doctor 
will  take  me  almost  any  time,  I  think.  The  face  cases 
are  the  most  terrible.  There  is  one  man  with  about 
half  his  face  gone  and  a  great  round  hole  in  his  fore- 
head; but  the  interesting  part  of  him  is  that  his  one 
good  eye  is  so  full  of  good-humor  and  genialness  that 
he  is  positively  attractive  to  look  upon.  When  Jamie 
was  here  did  they  have  a  case  of  plaster  casts  of  face 
cases,  first  one  when  the  man  came  in,  then  one  or 
two  in  later  stages,  including  the  last?  It  is  marvel- 
lous; only,  of  course,  a  plaster  cast  does  not  show  the 
scars  and  little  details  like  that. 

George  J.  turned  up  here  at  supper-time  the  other 
day  and  took  me  in  town  to  dine  —  very  delicious,  I 
can  assure  you.  It  was  great  to  see  him:  he  is  always 
one  of  the  nicest  people  I  know. 

Paris  is  a  funny  place  about  food  and  other  things. 
The  shops  are  filled  with  beautiful  and  gorgeous 
clothes  and  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  has  just  the  same  show- 
ing of  luxurious  trifles  as  ever.  The  other  day  I  went 
to  call  on  a  most  agreeable  Frenchwoman  of  about 
forty- five  who  lives  alone  and  supports  herself,  still, 
by  giving  bridge  lessons  at  twenty  francs  an  hour. 

Saturday  night  I  went  in  and  served  dinners  to 
permissionnaires  returning  to  the  front  or  coming 
from  it,  at  the  Gare  de  I'Est.  I  can  tell  you  it's  quite  a 
scramble  and  I  love  doing  it.  They  pay  fifteen  sous  at 


26  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  door  and  get  a  slip  with  "potage  et  pain,"  "vi- 
ande  et  legumes,"  "biere,"  "dessert,"  and  "cafe," 
printed  on  it.  I  take  the  sHps  as  they  sit  down  at 
table,  wait  till  all  twelve  seats  are  filled,  and  then  run 
madly  up  to  the  serving  counter  with  a  huge  tray  and 
get  twelve  bowls  of  soup,  leaving  in  exchange  twelve 
"potage"  torn  off  the  slips,  and  run  back  spilling  the 
soup  at  every  step;  but  no  one  would  care  if  I  deluged 
myself,  the  floor,  and  everything  else  in  sight,  as  far 
as  the  mess  was  concerned.  I  put  the  soup  before 
them,  tear  off  and  get  twelve  beers,  leaving  my 
"biere"  slips,  and  by  that  time  they  are  ready  for  the 
meat  and  vegetables  and  I  have  to  find  out  how  many 
prefer  meat  and  how  many  fish.  When  they  are  safely 
at  that  course  the  real  trouble  begins,  for  above  their 
heads  is  a  printed  list  of  "supplements"  —  second 
helps,  salads,  and  wine  —  which  they  can  have  by 
paying  extra;  but  the  prices  are  printed  in  centimes, 
and  you  are  told  about  them  in  sous,  and  the  men 
give  you  one  sou,  two  sous  fifty  centimes  (which  is 
Heaven  knows  how  many  centimes !)  and  one  franc. 
You  have  to  make  sure  every  one  has  paid,  make  the 
change,  and  remember  that  it  is  one  salad,  two  beers, 
one  wine,  one  vegetable  without  meat,  one  meat 
without  vegetables,  one  five-centimes  piece  of  bread, 
and  one  ten-centimes  piece  of  bread.  I  can  tell  you 
what,  histories  in  French  and  English  are  absolutely 
nothing  compared  with  that.  Then,  when  they  have 
finished  (you  conversing  sweetly  with  the  two  near- 
est in  odd  minutes  about  the  best  method  of  learning 
a  foreign  language,  and  when  the  war  will  be  over). 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  27 

you  pile  up  the  dishes  any  old  way  on  to  your  waiter, 
go  staggering  down  the  room  with  it,  return  and 
brush  the  slops  (there  is  no  other  word  for  it)  off  on 
to  the  floor,  and  set  the  table  for  the  next  comers  — 
spoon  and  fork  (they  are  supposed  to  have  their  own 
knives),  enormous  piece  of  bread  —  I  guess  that's  all. 
In  spite  of  its  sounding  so  unattractive,  the  food 
really  looks  very  good,  and  they  get  good  big  helpings. 
Dessert  was  cherries  or  cheese,  and  every  one  had 
coffee.  It  was  great  fun,  and  I  have  signed  on  to  go 
from  five  to  eight  every  Tuesday  and  Saturday  eve- 
ning. 

There  is  the  greatest  difference  of  opinion  about 
the  state  of  the  war  and  the  importance  of  our  as- 
sistance. But  I  get  to  feel  more  and  more  as  if  our 
coming  might  be  the  one  thing  to  turn  the  balance.  I 
do  hope  we  shall  send  men  very  soon. 

June  27 
Last  night  I  was  so  tired  I  lay  down  all  dressed  and 
slept  for  an  hour  before  going  to  bed.  It  was  my  sec- 
ond trip  to  the  Gare  de  I'Est,  and  the  trays  were 
heavy  and  I  did  n't  get  through  till  half-past  eight 
instead  of  eight,  and  I  took  the  wrong  Metro,  so  I 
went  a  much  longer  way  home  and  had  to  stand  most 
of  the  way.  I  have  now  been  here  about  four  weeks 
and  not  once  have  I  had  a  man  offer  me  his  seat  —  or 
seen  him  do  it  to  any  other  woman  —  and  the  way 
they  push  in  the  subway  is  inconceivable.  American 
men  certainly  have  better  manners  than  Frenchmen. 
I  would  n't  mind  if  they  were  soldiers,  for  you  feel 


28  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

that  they  have  earned  anything  (a  seat,  I  mean),  but 
they  are  not.  The  Gare  de  I'Est  is  great  fun,  and  last 
night  I  acquired  a  filleul,  —  if  I  can  make  out  the  in- 
volved address  he  gave  me;  I  guess  one  of  the  men  at 
the  Ambulance  can.  He  was  the  last  to  leave  the 
table  and  he  looked  absolutely  miserable  (he  is  not  a 
beauty)  and  on  the  verge  of  tears,  and  said,  "  Mainte- 
nant  la  boucherie"  and  then  went  on  to  explain  some- 
thing about  his  family  which  I  did  not  fully  under- 
stand, but  I  think  he  said  his  two  brothers  had  been 
killed  (though  I  also  heard  something  about  "ampu- 
tation") and  his  mother  had  died.  Anyhow,  he  said 
he  now  had  no  one,  and  I  said,  "  Et  pas  de  marraine?" 
and  he  said,  "  Pas  de  marraine  " ;  —  et  voila.  I  hope  I 
shall  be  able  to  reach  him,  or  he  will  think  I  'm  faith- 
less. Of  course  I  never  thought  to  give  him  my  ad- 
dress. 

Yesterday  I  really  felt,  for  about  the  first  time, 
that  my  diddling  around  the  Ambulance  with  the 
blesses  really  counted  for  something,  for  one  lad  con- 
fessed to  being  bored  to  tears  and  I  started  him  off  on 
a  picture  puzzle  (though  he  is  flat  on  his  back,  al- 
most) and  three  or  four  others  came  and  helped  him; 
and  when  I  went  in  to  give  my  English  lesson  I  found 
the  man  was  very  nervous  and  depressed  over  the 
operation  he  was  about  to  have  in  half  an  hour  and 
the  lesson  quite  took  his  mind  off  that  and  he  learned 
to  say  "Good  luck" ;  and  then  I  met  another  man,  in 
the  garden,  who  asked  me  if  I  had  n't  any  more  of  the 
"jeux"  —  picture  puzzles.  So  that  goes.  And  they 
have  stiffened  up  the  histories  a  little  —  making  me 


FRENCH  WOUNDED 


29 


add  the  diagnoses  and  interventions  of  the  previous 
hospitals;  so  I  guess  I  can  find  enough  to  do.  Perhaps 
I  had  better  go  to  the  Gare  de  I'Est  a  third  evening. 

June  30 
I  am  up  in  Mrs.  Munroe's  office  answering  ques- 
tions (of  which  there  are  almost  none)  while  she  is 
making  the  rounds  of  the  auxiliaries  —  she  has  about 
ninety,  I  believe,  and  she  sees  them  every  day.  Then 
I  shall  go  down  to  my  regular  work,  and  this  after- 
noon I  am  to  see  an  operation  for  the  first  time.  I 
have  found  one  little  additional  job  I  can  do  in  three 
of  my  wards  —  attend  to  sending  the  diagnoses  each 
week  on  little  cards  to  the  families,  with  a  message 
from  each  man.  Apparently  the  men  never  have  any- 
thing to  say  and  don't  want  to  write,  but  it  is  a  French 
Government  rule  that  they  shall.  I  think  it  will  be 
fun,  for  I  can  invent  things  for  them  to  say,  and  it  is 
certainly  more  in  line  with  my  work  than  the  head 
nurse's. 

We  are  going  fast  and  furious  on  picture  puzzles.  I 
have  bought  a  number,  for  they  have  not  the  patience 
to  undertake  the  long  ones  which  are  chiefly  what  the 
Ambulance  has.  For  about  a  week  I  have  given  them 
a  new  one  every  day,  but  I  can't  keep  that  up  forever. 
I  had  the  brilliant  idea  last  night  that  perhaps  some 
of  them  could  draw  crayon  pictures  on  the  other  side, 
so  we  should  have  a  double  set.  I  know  one  of  the  men 
can  draw. 

Some  of  the  men  really  have  the  sweetest  faces 
that  ever  were,  and  goodness,  they  are  young!  And 


30  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

look  even  younger.  But  I  wish  I  could  understand 
French  better.  I  do  so  wonder  how  our  own  soldiers 
will  compare  with  the  French  as  patients  —  wonder- 
ful (most  of  them)  about  the  pain,  always  ready  to 
smile  and  to  appreciate  anything  you  do.  I  dare  say 
ours  will  be  just  as  nice  —  only  I  feel  as  if  they  would 
be  more  exacting.  I  met  an  American  boy  the  other 
day  at  the  Gare  de  I'Est  and  he  accompanied  us  to  the 
Gare  du  Nord  to  the  "American  party."  He  told  us, 
and  I  guess  every  one  else  he  met,  all  about  himself. 
He  was  quite  attractive,  with  a  thin,  very  keen  face 
and  good  sense  of  humor  and  friendly  to  the  last  de- 
gree. He  had  been  in  the  American  Army  six  years, 
though  he  looked  about  twenty,  and  in  the  Foreign 
Legion  two  years,  had  then  gone  to  pieces  mentally, 
and  at  his  own  request  had  been  sent  to  a  hospital. 
He  had  been  there  four  or  five  months  and  was  now 
on  his  way  to  Lyons  for  a  month  and  then  expected  to 
be  transferred  to  the  American  camp  as  instructor. 

The  "American  party"  was  awfully  nice  and  I 
should  think  would  do  a  really  good  job.  There  were 
about  three  hundred  men  there,  I  should  say,  who 
were  going  back  to  the  front  the  next  morning.  The 
first  comers  sat  round  long  tables  with  nice  clean 
tablecloths  and  roses  down  the  centre.  They  had 
bread  and  pinard  and  cherries  —  the  last  passed  off 
and  on  all  evening.  The  later  comers  sat  round  on  the 
beds,  of  which  there  were  about  fifty  or  seventy-five 
I  should  say;  otherwise  the  men  sleep  all  over  the 
floor  of  the  station  or  street  or  anywhere.  When 
every  one  had  had  something  to  drink  (piano  going  all 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  31 

the  time),  a  man  got  up  and  gave  them  a  welcome 
and  introduced  a  string  of  singers  who  really  per- 
formed very  well  and  got  every  one  to  laughing  and 
singing.  That  kept  on  for  an  hour,  I  should  say,  and 
they  distributed  then  those  little  "comfort  bags"  that 
the  French  Wounded  (and  I  dare  say  other  people) 
send  over.  They  contain  perhaps  a  razor,  pair  of 
socks,  soap,  comb,  writing-paper,  piece  of  chocolate, 
and  picture  post-cards.  One  man  did  n't  get  any  razor 
and  wanted  awfully  to  know  if  he  could  not  have  one 
separate.  They  really  are  crazy  about  the  bags.  Then 
each  man  had  an  American  flag.  I  left  just  after  an 
impassioned  speech  by  some  one  about  the  sacrifices 
the  soldiers  were  making,  and  that  each  man  should 
go  ofT  feeling  that  we  really  cared  enormously  about 
him.  It  was  quite  stirring.  Then  every  one  sang  the 
"Marseillaise" —  the  only  time  I  have  heard  it  here 
and  quite  enough  to  last  me  for  some  time. 

July  I 
Life  here  is  really  just  as  difficult  —  there  are  just 
as  many  things  to  decide  —  as  at  home.  I  sort  of  felt 
that  one  would  get  right  down  to  first  principles  and 
that  the  things  one  did  would  be  so  urgent  that  there 
w^ould  be  practically  no  choice  in  the  matter.  But  not 
at  all.  In  the  Ambulance,  for  example,  there  is  at 
present  a  very  quiet  time,  with  very  few  admissions, 
so  that  my  work  —  the  things  I  absolutely  have  to  do 
—  can  be  put  through  in  anywhere  from  half  an  hour 
to  an  hour  and  a  half  a  day ;  and  then  I  have  to  choose 
and  decide  what  to  do  the  rest  of  the  time.  What  I  do. 


32  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  bulk  of  the  rest  of  the  time,  is  to  try  to  enliven 
the  men  and  give  them  a  good  time ;  and  of  course  I 
think  that  is  very  worth  while,  poor  lads  —  some  of 
them  have  been  in  the  hospital  two  years  —  though 
as  a  matter  of  fact  I  think  those  cases  are  pretty  well 
settled  down  to  a  satisfactory  existence,  and  the  ones 
who  are  most  bored  are  those  who  have  been  there  a 
month  or  two.  At  present  we  are  going  very  heavily 
on  picture  puzzles,  and  the  men  are  crazy  about  them 
and  leap  from  their  beds  if  I  come  in  with  a  new  one. 
I  have  not  yet  tried  them  on  the  officers  —  except  on 
one  who  said  he  had  n't  nearly  enough  patience,  and 
then  apologized  profusely  for  not  being  more  appre- 
ciative; but  I  guess  I  had  better  try  them  out  to- 
morrow. But,  of  course,  the  officers  read  a  great  deal 
and  go  out  on  permission  more:  the  men  hoot  with 
derision  if  you  ask  them  if  they  would  like  something 
to  read.  The  officers  are  usually  very  entertaining, 
but  naturally  are  more  self-sufficient  and  have  more 
friends  coming  to  see  them. 

It  is  perfectly  thrilling  to  think  that  we  actually 
have  troops  over  here !  The  longer  I  am  here  the  more 
I  wish  we  could  put  millions  of  men  into  the  field  at 
once  —  and  that  we  had  done  so  before.  There  are  to 
be  all  kinds  of  festivities  here  on  the  Fourth  —  but 
you  will  see  all  that  in  the  papers,  of  course.  I  am 
going  to  the  big  market  at  half-past  six  in  the  morn- 
ing to  buy  poppies,  daisies,  and  bachelor's  buttons, 
for  little  bouquets  for  all  my  men.  There  is  to  be  a 
grand  dejeuner  at  the  Ambulance,  all  the  food  with 
military  names  —  and  afterwards  a  service  in  the 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  33 

chapel,  with  singing  and  speeches.  I  can't  hear  the 
Ambulance  things  and  the  town  ones,  too,  I  am 
afraid,  but  I  guess  I  will  stick  by  the  ship. 

I  will  now  begin  and  keep  a  real  diary  for  at  least  a 
week  and  see  how  it  comes  out. 

Sunday,  July  i 
Breakfast  at  eight  (as  usual).  Went  up  the  street 
to  send  Cynthia  a  telegram  saying  I  would  be  chez- 
elle  at  twelve-thirty.  (Which  dates  back  to  one  day 
earlier  in  the  week  when  I  went  into  the  French 
Wounded  to  see  it,  under  the  guidance  of  Louisa  H., 
and  suddenly  Cynthia  appeared,  dressed  almost  in 
regular  ambulance  uniform,  only  with  a  skirt,  and  it 
seems  she  is  there,  driving  a  camion  every  day  and  all 
day  for  them.  She  was  taking  Louisa  over  to  deliver 
some  great  sacks  of  sheets,  etc.,  at  a  little  hospital 
managed  by  Sisters,  under  the  French  Red  Cross, 
way  across  Paris  somewhere.  So  I  made  her  take  me, 
too  —  somewhat  against  rules.  That  was  good  fun, 
for  the  Sisters  were  awfully  nice  and  cordial  and 
simple-hearted,  and  we  went  in  and  handed  round 
cigarettes  —  Cynthia's  —  to  the  blesses,  who  were 
at  lunch.  There  was  only  one  in  bed  and  they  all  have 
to  work  all  morning  in  the  hospital  vegetable  gar- 
den.) Then  I  read  and  wrote  letters  till  eleven  or  so, 
packed  up  my  things  for  the  Gare  and  went  in  to 
Cynthia's,  Of  course  the  telegram  had  n't  reached 
her  and  she  was  out.  I  enjoyed  a  solitary  meal  at 
Henriette's,  a  restaurant  close  by  —  the  first  meal  I 
have  had  alone  (with  a  book)  in  years  and  years.  The 


34  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

room  has  frescoed  walls  of  the  Queen  of  Hearts  and 
the  Tarts  and  the  Knave,  in  soft,  fady  colors,  life- 
size,  all  round,  done  by  an  English  art  student  who 
could  n't  pay  her  bills  in  the  ordinary  way.  Want  to 
know  what  I  had?  I  tell  you  food  gets  to  be  an  event 
these  days !  Omelet,  peas,  —  both  piping  hot,  —  to- 
mato salad,  wild  strawberries  with  a  little  brown  jug 
of  that  marvellous  thick,  slightly  sour  cream,  and 
sugar.  Does  n't  that  sound  good?  (I  forgot  this  was  a 
diary,  and  one  does  n't  ask  questions  in  a  diary,  does 
one?)  Back  to  Cynthia's  room  — still  out.  I  left  my 
dress-suit  case  there  the  first  time,  of  course.  Went  a 
hundred  miles  over  to  Notre  Dame  and  stayed  for  an 
hour's  worth  of  service  there  —  perfectly  inexplica- 
ble, but  lovely,  music:  choir-boys,  led  by  a  master 
with  a  long  stick  from  the  middle  of  the  chancel,  and 
two  organs,  one  at  the  front  and  the  other  at  the  back. 
I  sat  where  I  could  see  the  beautiful  dark-blue  and 
green  rose  window  in  the  transept,  and  enjoyed  my- 
self. Went  back  to  Cynthia's  —  she  had  not  come  in. 
Went  up  to  her  room  and  lay  down  for  an  hour,  had  a 
cup  of  tea  and  some  bread  and  butter,  and  went  over 
to  the  Gare  de  I'Est,  getting  there  and  dressed  at 
quarter  of  six.  Went  to  my  appointed  table,  turned 
round,  and  came  face  to  face  with  Cynthia,  who  had 
been  there  since  one  o'clock.  Very  busy  evening,  all 
the  tables  full  all  the  time.  The  floor  is  so  slippery 
from  spilled  soup  and  beer  that  it  is  something  of  a 
problem  not  to  fall  —  especially  when  you  are  carry- 
ing a  waiter  of  ordinary  good  size  on  which  are  piled 
twelve  large  plates  of  meat  and  vegetables  with  lots 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  35 

of  gravy  on  them.  I  guess  Sunday  is  a  hard  day,  or 
people  stay  longer,  or  something,  for  their  tempers 
are  certainly  not  as  good  as  they  are  on  Tuesdays.  I 
had  two  Canadian  boys  among  other  poilus,  and  if  I 
had  given  them  half  a  chance  they  would  have  in- 
vited me  to  the  theatre ;  but  I  did  n't  feel  sure  of  the 
etiquette  of  going  out  in  the  evening  with  two  per- 
fectly uneducated  boys  who  called  me  "Sister."  How- 
ever, I  understand  that  men  en  permission  should 
have  anything  they  want,  so  perhaps  I  will  go  if  they 
ask  me  again  Tuesday  —  though  I  doubt  it;  I  don't 
think  I  am  made  that  way,  and  it  is  no  use  my  pre- 
tending I  am.  A  Belgian,  who  tried  to  talk  English  to 
me,  but  did  n't  know  it  apart  from  German,  told  me 
that  I  was  very  pretty  —  so  you  see  I  have  come  to 
the  one  appreciative  spot  in  the  world.  Got  home 
about  nine  and  had  supper. 

Monday,  July  2 
Got  rather  late  to  breakfast,  owing  to  a  peculiarity 
of  my  watch.  Reached  Ambulance  at  half-past  nine 
and  read  my  letters  from  home.  Did  about  half  an 
hour's  work  on  the  histories  and  spent  the  rest  of  the 
time  till  twelve  in  talking  with  the  men,  looking 
through  the  library  for  more  picture  puzzles  without 
too  many  pieces  missing.  Lunch.  Gave  English  lesson 
in  68  and  then  went  in  to  see  a  man  in  69  who  had 
been  in  his  weekly  tub  when  I  was  there  before.  He  is 
the  farmer  from  the  borders  of  Spain  and  France,  of 
whom  I  have  told  you  before ;  and  he  really  is  a  per- 
fect duck,  and  courageous  to  the  last  degree,  and  full 


36  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

of  humor.  It  was  for  him  that  I  first  started  them  on 
picture  puzzles,  and  he  has  done  them  all  the  time 
since.  In  the  next  bed  to  his  is  a  very  slight,  small  lad, 
who  looks  white  and  thoroughly  unhappy  and  discon- 
tented all  the  time.  He  complains  incessantly  of  his 
arm,  which  is  in  such  contrast  to  the  other  men  that 
the  nurses  have  got  to  feel  that  he  is  a  perfect  cry- 
baby and  that  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  leave  him 
alone.  I  tried  to  make  him  do  puzzles,  but  he  said  he 
had  n't  the  patience;  so  he  just  lies  there  concentrat- 
ing on  his  arm,  and  groaning  from  time  to  time.  Well, 
to-day  I  decided  to  tackle  him  —  and  tackle  him  till 
I  got  him.  So  I  asked  him  if  there  was  nothing  he 
liked  to  do  —  whether  he  liked  to  read ;  no ;  whether 
he  would  like  me  to  read  to  him ;  no ;  and  then  one  of 
the  other  men  said  he  would  like  to  learn  English, 
and  he  said,  yes,  that  was  so,  he  would.  So  I  started 
him  off  —  though  he  is  very  slow  to  catch  on  —  and 
another  man  joined  him,  which  ought  to  make  it  more 
entertaining  for  him,  and  I  think  that  for  a  minute  or 
two  at  a  time  he  forgot  his  arm ;  but  certainly  not  for 
long.  I  have  left  him  quite  a  list  of  words  to  learn  for 
to-morrow  and  he  promised  he  would.  Then  I  went  at 
him  as  if  he  were  a  RadclifTe  girl  and  asked  him  what 
his  trade  had  been  before  the  war;  coiffeur,  so  that 
did  n't  help  much.  What  did  he  do  in  his  off  time?  He 
walked  —  so  helpful.  Was  he  musical?  No?  Then  I 
would  not  sing  to  him  —  roars  of  laughter  from  every 
one  else.  I  really  begin  to  fancy  myself  as  a  wrt,  these 
men  laugh  so  easily.  Was  he  artistic?  Certainly  not! 
Was  there  anything  in  the  world  he  enjoyed  doing? 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  37 

Yes,  there  was  —  he  loved  to  play  cards.  In  three 
minutes  he  had  a  pack  of  cards,  and  settled  down  for 
his  first  afternoon  of  real  comfort.  And,  of  course,  he 
might  have  had  them  days  ago  if  I  had  had  the  sense 
to  find  it  out  or  he  had  had  the  sense  to  ask.  Well,  we 
may  get  him  on  to  picture  puzzles  yet;  by  hook  or 
by  crook  I  am  determined  to  wear  the  frown  off  his 
childish  face.  He  is  twenty-two,  but  looks  seventeen. 
Left  the  hospital  at  three-fifteen,  after  having  done 
a  bit  more  work  on  the  histories;  got  the  doctor  to 
sign  up  one  man's  papers,  so  he  can  be  evacuated, 
give  me  notes  on  two  operations  and  two  diagnoses; 
came  home  and  dressed  for  a  trip  to  Pantruche.  Got  a 
nice  loaf  of  cake  for  Bronson,  who  has  sent  me  a  check 
to  send  him  cake  with  once  a  week;  got  a  price  on  a 
stop-watch  for  one  of  his  officers;  bought  a  pack  of 
cards  so  that  Frowner  can  ha\'e  one  always  at  hand, 
two  picture  puzzles,  a  card  table  so  that  they  can 
keep  the  big  picture  puzzles  going  more  than  one  day, 
a  sheet  of  Bristol  board  to  experiment  with  making 
cardboard  picture  puzzles  —  they  are  so  awfully  ex- 
pensive in  wood,  and  the  head  nurse  does  n't  want 
them  to  make  wooden  ones  at  the  Ambulance  because 
the  wards  are  supposed  to  look  just  like  a  New  York 
hospital  for  really  sick  people  —  and  paste  for  the 
same.  What  the  Ambulance  really  needs  is  a  big  play 
room,  where  the  men  could  have  a  piano  and  work- 
benches, etc.,  and  spend  the  rainy  days,  and  a  good- 
sized  sitting-room  for  the  officers.  A  ward  is  an  aw- 
fully poor  place  for  a  man  who  feels  perfectly  well 
and  is  up  and  dressed  —  for  the  whole  day  and  for 


38  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

days  and  days  in  succession.  Of  course,  they  can  go 
out,  but  there's  nothing  to  do  in  the  yard.  I  wonder 
why  we  should  n't  have  ring-toss,  or  something  Hke 
that,  outdoors? 

Tuesday 
I  am  not  making  much  headway  with  Le  Petit  — 
who  frowns.  I  gave  him  his  cards  and  he  seemed 
pleased  for  the  moment,  but  in  spite  of  his  great  de- 
sire to  learn  English  he  finds  it  impossible  to  learn 
three  words.  I  really  think  I  spent  half  an  hour  trying 
to  make  him  remember  three,  and  he  could  n't.  It 
turns  out  that  he  can't  read  much  —  at  least  he  says 
he  can't.  I  guess  English  will  have  to  be  given  up. 
Found  one  of  the  nurses  wanted  to  get  tickets  for 
some  of  the  men  to  go  to  the  ceremony  at  Lafayette's 
Tomb,  the  Fourth.  Went  in  for  her  to  Brentano's, 
but  found  all  the  tickets  had  been  given  out.  Thence 
to  the  American  Chamber  of  Commerce,  and  from 
there  was  referred  to  their  honorary  secretary.  He 
was  out.  Tried  to  buy  a  coat  d'infirmiere.  Back  to 
Ambulance,  and  home  to  dress  for  Gare  de  I'Est. 
Into  Paris  again;  found  the  honorable  secretary  this 
time,  and  he  said  he  would  probably  pass  me  and  a 
few  bless6s  in  for  the  ceremony,  as  he  was  to  be  at  the 
gate  all  the  time.  Gare  de  I'Est  from  half-past  five  to 
quarter  of  eight  —  a  back-breaking  process  when  you 
serve  three  tables,  not  at  all  when  you  serve  two. 
What  the  people  do  who  are  there  all  afternoon  and 
evening  and  serve  endless  tables,  I  can't  imagine:  I 
should  think  they  would  die.  The  French  have  such 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  39 

odd  Ideas  of  suitable  chaussure!  There  was  a  strap- 
ping girl  there  who  had  her  blue  infirmiere's  costume 
on,  white  apron,  dark-brown  stockings,  and  cloth- 
of-silver  dancing-slippers  with  the  highest  possible 
heels.  Came  out  to  Neuilly  and  took  a  fifteen-min- 
ute walk  in  search  of  blue-and-white  ribbon,  which  I 
found.  Home,  and  supper  at  quarter  past  nine.  Spent 
till  quarter  of  twelve  cutting  and  arranging  little  rib- 
bon things,  with  stars  and  stripes,  for  my  Fourth  of 
July  bouquets  —  you  may  have  heard  me  mention 
them  before! 

Fourth  of  July  {to-day) 
No  more  time  and  this  must  be  posted  to-night. 
Will  simply  say  that  I  rose  at  quarter  past  four,  made 
my  own  breakfast  and  took  the'  first  Metro  into  Paris 
to  buy  my  flowers  at  the  big  market.  Am  now  (quar- 
ter of  six  in  the  afternoon)  about  to  dress  and  go  in 
town  to  dine  with  George,  and  very  likely  Bobby. 

...  As  I  said,  got  up  very  early  and  set  my  water 
a-boiling  in  M.  J.'s  little  affair,  while  I  dressed,  and 
then  had  delicious  breakfast  of  Washington  coffee 
(which  is  so  superior  to  anything  I  have  had  here  that 
I  wish  it  were  not  impolite  to  use  it  always)  and 
bread  and  honey.  Breakfast  finished,  I  left  the  house 
only  two  minutes  after  schedule  time,  and  reached 
the  Metro  in  plenty  of  time  for  the  first  car  —  with 
all  the  other  marketers.  The  market  was  simply  de- 
lightful and  I  am  going  again  on  a  sunny  day  with 
my  kodak.  There  were  no  buyers  there  any  earlier 
than  I,  and  not  many,  anyway  —  just  the  venders 


40  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

with  their  baskets  and  carts  piled  high  with  vege- 
tables. One  man  had  a  hay-cart  full  of  carrots  and 
peered  out  from  among  them  —  great  masses  of  that 
gorgeous  orange  color  encircled  in  brilliant,  feathery 
green  on  all  sides  of  him.  Radishes  made  another 
wonderful  mass  of  color  —  and  beans,  and  tomatoes; 
everything  in  great  quantities  looking  so  luxuriant.  I 
walked  through  the  whole  market  before  coming  to 
the  flowers,  and  then  came  on  them  suddenly  —  a 
whole  passage  lined  on  both  sides  with  them,  sheets 
of  solid  color  —  bachelor's  buttons,  daisies,  roses 
(thousands),  golden-rod,  dark-purple  pansies,  white 
chrysanthemums,  little  garden  pinks,  larkspur,  lilies, 
marigolds.  Really  a  most  wonderful  sight ;  I  don't  see 
why  people  don't  paint  it  all  the  time,  but  I  did  n't 
see  any  artists  there.  The  sun  was  n't  out,  so  the  col- 
ors looked  brighter  than  ever.  I  chose  five  fat  bunches 
of  bachelor's  buttons,  six  bunches  of  the  little  pinks, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  take  only  the  red  ones,  and  two 
huge  bunches  of  white  button  chrysanthemums  — 
they  made  a  dress-suit  case  full ;  then  I  could  n't  re- 
sist getting  a  great  bunch  of  golden-rod  and  ferns,  for 
the  American  nurses  on  my  corridor,  and  some  pan- 
sies for  the  head  nurse  of  the  corridor.  So  I  came 
home  laden,  and  started  in  at  once  to  make  up  my 
bouquets  —  one  red  carnation  in  front,  then  a  little 
row  of  whites  and  a  row  of  blues,  tied  with  red,  white, 
and  blue  ribbon.  I  started  that  at  quarter  of  seven 
and  worked  just  as  fast  as  I  possibly  could  till  half- 
past  eight,  having  every  one  else  in  the  household 
working,  too,  the  last  fifteen  minutes,  and  rushed 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  41 

over  to  the  Ambulance.  The  Frenchies  were  highly 
delighted  with  their  bouquets.  There  were  some  left 
over  which  the  cleaning- women  begged.  Then  I  col- 
lected my  six  blesses,  with  great  difficulty  and  wait- 
ing round,  as  some  of  them  had  been  up  and  ready 
since  crack  of  dawn  and  others  weren't  dressed, — 
and  dressing  is  such  a  long  process  if  you  have  only 
one  hand,  —  and  we  thought  we  were  off,  rather  late 
but  probably  in  time.  Not  at  all ;  when  we  got  to  the 
front  door  we  found  the  permissions  were  n't  ready, 
though  every  one  knew  the  night  before  that  the  men 
were  all  given  leave.  Finally  we  were  off  —  but,  my 
goodness,  they  did  walk  slowly!  It  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  Grandpere  (who  is  thirty-three),  the  chief  re- 
tarder,  had  n't  been  out  before  and  was  feeling  a  bit 
wobbly;  but  still,  I  could  have  walked  down  and  back 
before  they  got  there.  And  then,  for  the  first  time 
since  I  have  got  here,  there  was  a  block  of  fifteen 
minutes  in  the  Metro.  However,  we  finally  got  there, 
I  murmured  the  name  of  the  honorary  secretary 
("there"  being  Lafayette's  tomb  —  or  rather  the  con- 
vent yard  which  contained  the  cemetery  which  con- 
tained the  tomb),  each  man  handed  out  one  of  my 
visiting  cards  as  a  ticket  —  my  own  idea  and  it 
worked  —  and  after  half  an  hour's  more  wait  we  got 
in  and  got  places  on  various  neighboring  tombs.  But 
alas,  the  soldiers  that  we  wanted  so  much  to  see 
did  n't  come  inside,  and  all  there  was  was  speeches 
made  in  English  by  men  whom  we  could  n't  see  or 
hear.  So  after  a  while  we  went  out  and  found  the 
American  soldiers  (only  one  battalion  of  them  in- 


42  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

stead  of  the  whole  contingent)  lined  up  on  both  sides 
of  a  long,  grassy,  leafy  lane,  and  had  some  talk  with 
them  as  to  the  French  vs.  American  guns,  rifles,  car- 
tridge belts,  packs,  etc.  They  looked  most  picturesque 
and  I  thought  quite  imposing  —  certainly  big  and 
strong  —  so  much  bigger  than  Frenchmen.  Then 
they  marched  away,  but  irregularly  and  without  a 
band,  and  our  grand  spectacle  for  which  we  had  made 
such  an  efi^ort  was  over;  it  really  was  rather  disap- 
pointing. Then  we  went  to  one  of  those  little  corner 
caf^s  and  had  lunch  —  not  a  very  good  lunch  — 
which  I  paid  for  and  which  seemed  to  make  up  to  the 
boys  for  the  morning's  flatness;  at  least,  reliable  wit- 
nesses told  me  that  the  men  had  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  party,  and  I  like  to  believe  them.  After  lunch  we 
did  something  which  quite  made  up  for  the  rest  to  me 
—  we  went  and  had  our  pictures  taken  on  a  post- 
card ;  I  do  hope  they  will  be  good. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  Ambulance  I  found  a  note 
from  George  asking  me  to  dine  with  him,  and  I  natu- 
rally accepted  the  invitation.  We  went  to  the  Cuckoo 
on  Montmartre.  There  is  the  most  lovely  view  from 
Montmartre:  the  whole  of  Paris  is  at  your  feet,  soft 
and  lovely.  Delicious  dinner,  and  we  walked  part  way 
home  —  and  saw  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  which  neither 
of  us  could  explain.  End  of  the  Fourth. 

July  5 
Rien  k  signaler. 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  43 

July  6 
Mail-day  and  the  mall  late.  Worked  quite  hard, 
for  there  were  about  five  evacuations  and  I  had  the 
little  cards  which  are  sent  out  to  the  families  each 
week,  via  the  Ministere  de  la  Guerre,  to  write  for 
about  thirty  men,  and  that  takes  quite  a  while  — 
name,  rank,  and  diagnosis  of  each;  address  of  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  and  some  kind  of  message.  One 
man  I  found  could  n't  even  write  his  own  name;  and 
then,  of  course,  a  good  many  of  them  had  bad  arms 
and  could  n't  write.  I  started,  in  English,  with  a  com- 
mandant, who  will  be  good  fun  to  teach,  for,  of 
course,  he  is  a  man  of  considerable  intellect  and  train- 
ing —  you  have  to  be,  to  pass  the  French  officers* 
exams.  I  started  reading  "My  Friend  Prospero"  to 
him  —  translating  it  into  French,  with  his  help.  I 
cannot  make  him  read  "The  bird  has  a  nest  and  I 
have  a  home,"  as  I  do  the  poor  poilu,  who,  by  the 
way,  is  really  working  very  hard  over  his  English  and 
demanded  a  notebook,  in  which  he  writes  out  the  ex- 
ercises. To  the  poilu,  also,  I  read  and  translate  —  usu- 
ally something  out  of  the  newspaper. 

Mother  is  right  —  or  rather  I  agree  with  her  that  it 
would  be  nice  to  have  some  rigor  in  the  job,  but  tant 
pis,  there  is  none.  Neither  is  there  any  chance  to  ad- 
minister any  affairs ;  the  m^decin  chef,  whom  I  never 
see,  says  how  he  wants  the  thing  done,  and  that  is  the 
end  of  it.  The  corridor  is  so  separate  from  the  rest  of 
the  Ambulance  that  the  organization  as  a  whole  I 
know  nothing  of.  However,  you  never  can  tell  what 
will  happen  when  we  are  militarized,  though  I  be- 


44  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

lieve  everything  is  to  go  on  as  before.  This  is  sup- 
posed to  happen  at  once,  but  has  been  supposed  to 
for  some  days  and  has  n't  yet. 

Saturday,  July  7 
Went  in  town  the  first  thing  and  got  various 
needed  things,  including  an  EngHsh  grammar  for  the 
commandant  and  a  picture  book  for  making  card- 
board picture  puzzles.  Came  out  and  evacuated  one 
man  before  lunch.  I  have  about  resigned  myself  to 
being  a  little  Sunshine,  for  it  seems  as  if  I  'd  got  to  do 
that  or  go  in  for  nursing  pure  and  simple,  which  ap- 
peals to  me  less  all  the  time.  Of  course,  if  they  ask  me 
to  do  that  I  will,  but  I  don't  think  they  will.  I  love 
doing  the  other,  as  far  as  that  goes  —  the  weeks  slip 
by  like  nothing  at  all  —  except  when  I  look  back  and 
then  I  can't  believe  there  can  be  so  much  of  any- 
thing. 

Tuesday,  July  lO 
Hospital  from  nine  to  four.  Followed  the  dressing- 
cart  the  first  hour  or  so,  did  some  work  (some  of  it 
quite  hard),  gave  my  two  English  lessons,  made 
folded  paper  things,  etc.  I  am  quite  pleased  with  Le 
Petit  (who  frowned).  It  has'n't  had  much  to  do  with 
me  —  is  chiefly  due  to  the  fact  that  his  arm  is  out  of 
the  extension,  which  pulled  it  all  the  time  —  but  he  is 
really  cheering  up.  He  has  smiled  quite  often,  and  I 
have  n't  happened  to  hear  him  complain  at  all.  This 
afternoon  when  I  went  in  he  was  playing  cards  (for 
money),  with  the  cards  I  gave  him,  with  three  com- 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  45 

panions  sitting  on  his  bed,  and  smoking  —  really 
having  quite  a  time.  He  won,  and  made  a  grand  total 
of  two  sous,  for  which  he  says  he  can  get  four  ciga- 
rettes —  they  must  be  corkers.  It  was  good  to  see  him 
care  about  anything.  And  yesterday  he  was  throwing 
water  at  a  friend ;  I  wanted  to  make  them  Httle  Japa- 
nese fly  boxes  to  throw  the  water  in,  so  as  to  have  it 
really  done  well,  but  the  nurse  did  n't  take  to  the  idea. 
Went  in  to  the  Gare  de  I'Est  and  served  dinner  to 
forty-six  gentlemen,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  —  my  rec- 
ord. Acquired  another  filleul,  who  somehow  does  n't 
attract  me  entirely  —  he  was  too  polite  and  had  a 
queer  smile,  which  may  have  been  due  to  his  having 
but  one  eye  and  no  artificial  one  in  the  other's  place. 
Anyhow,  he  is  from  Lyons,  and  was  married,  I  don't 
know  how  long  since,  and  when  he  went  home  en  per- 
mission three  months  ago  he  found  that  his  wife  had 
sold  his  place  and  his  business  and  gone  off,  with  the 
money,  with  an  American.  He  begged  me  to  be  his 
marraine  and  I  could  n't  very  well  tell  him  I  did  n't 
think  I  would  because  I  did  n't  like  his  looks  —  so  I 
am;  I  dare  say  he's  all  right,  for  a  French  girl  who 
talked  with  him  seemed  to  think  he  was. 

July  16 
I  take  a  few  minutes  while  I  am  waiting  to  report 
to  Mrs.  Munroe's  secretary  to  tell  you  I  am  still  alive 
and  well.  I  go  to  the  Henris'  to-day  and  want  to  go 
home  at  once  and  pack  —  so,  of  course,  this  is  the  one 
morning  of  her  life  when  the  secretary  is  late.  I  was 
up  in  Mrs.  Munroe's  ofhce  Saturday  afternoon  and 


46  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

all  day  Sunday,  while  she  and  her  secretary  were  off. 
I  had  to  see  all  the  auxiliaries  and  find  out  if  they 
were  going  to  stay  to  lunch  and  then  I  did  some  filing 
and  typing,  found  two  girls  to  pour  tea,  etc.,  and 
evacuated  a  couple  of  my  own  men.  Then  at  five  I  left 
and  went  to  the  Gare  de  I'Est,  where  the  place  was 
crowded  full  and  you  had  to  wait  hours  in  line  for 
everything.  Every  one  was  cross,  including  the  men, 
who  did  n't  like  having  to  wait  for  their  food.  Mon- 
day, had  to  go  to  the  Ambulance  at  eight  and  wait 
to  deliver  a  message.  Home  and  packed  (I  have 
enough  things  to  set  up  housekeeping  with),  got  my 
things  over  to  Madame  Henri's,  tore  over  to  the  Am- 
bulance and  worked  till  half-past  five;  over  to  the 
American  Hospital  where  Penelope  is  sick  with 
quinsy  throat  (the  worst  of  it  being  now  over)  and 
back  to  the  Henris'  just  in  time  for  a  half-past  seven 
dinner.  Tuesday  left  the  house  early  and  got  back  at 
quarter  of  nine,  having  really  worked  all  the  time  ex- 
cept about  half  an  hour  for  lunch  and  the  time  spent  in 
getting  in  to  the  Gare  de  I'Est.  Good  evening  there, 
however,  very  satisfactory.  To-day  —  Wednesday  — 
left  again  early  and  am  just  back.  Am  flying  to  the 
Lauths*  for  a  farewell  dinner. 


CHAPTER  II 

AN  AMERICAN  HOSPITAL  FOR  FRENCH  SOLDIERS 

(continued) 

July  1 8 
I  HOPE  the  last  letter  you  got  was  a  good  long  one,  for 
this  is  hardly  a  letter  at  all.  I  have  been  very  busy,  in- 
deed, and  perfectly  unexpectedly  so,  so  that  I  did  n't 
start  to  write  this  letter  earlier  in  the  week.  It  is  be- 
cause of  the  transfer  of  the  Ambulance  to  the  Ameri- 
can Red  Cross;  there  are  lists  to  be  made  out  of  every 
kind  of  thing  and  it  all  takes  time.  I  have  just  been 
checking  up,  running  errands,  making  the  rounds  to 
find  out  which  of  the  fifty  or  more  auxiliaires  are 
lunching  at  the  Ambulance,  and  such-like  things.  It 
is  not  especially  exciting  in  one  way,  but  is  very  neces- 
sary and  I  do  love  to  be  really  very  busy.  There  is  a 
possible  plan  in  mind  which  will  give  me  different 
work  if  it  goes  through,  and  then  I  have  no  doubt  I 
shall  be  perverse  enough  to  regret  my  leisurely  days 
of  playing  with  the  lads  and  talking  a  blue  streak  all 
day  and  going  off  whenever  I  liked.  Really,  though,  I 
shall  like  it  much  better,  for  it  will  mean  that  I  can 
work  up  a  good  job  and  one  where  I  could  not  be  re- 
placed at  a  moment's  notice  as  I  certainly  could  in 
the  history  work.  It  will  mean  the  regular  auxiliaire 
hours  of  eight  to  six,  and,  of  course,  I  shall  have  to 
give  up  the  Gare  de  I'Est.  On  Sunday  next  we  are  to 
have  a  grand  ceremony  of  transfer.  The  whole  place 


48  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

has  been  in  a  perfect  ferment  of  guessing  what  is  to 
happen  next  and  commenting  on  what  has  already 
happened. 

It  is  now  quarter  of  eleven  and  I  suppose  I  am 
keeping  every  one  awake  by  my  machine  a  ecrire,  so 
I  will  stop.  I  have  been  taking  a  farewell  supper  with 
the  Lauths.  I  don't  suppose  I  could  possibly  have 
found  a  more  thoroughly  congenial  and  homelike 
family;  I  really  feel  absolutely  at  home  there  and  am 
as  fond  as  possible  of  them  all.  They  and  Helena  F. 
(who  goes  home,  alas,  in  two  weeks)  have  made  all 
the  difference  in  these  first  few  weeks.  The  Henris  are 
very  nice,  indeed ;  I  have  hardly  had  time  yet  to  get 
acquainted.  The  two  children  will  be  a  great  pleasure. 
They  are  all  as  friendly  as  possible.  No  tub;  I  shall 
have  to  buy  one. 

July  21 
It  is  the  most  beautiful  evening  imaginable.  I  am 
sitting  at  my  table,  which  is  bang  up  against  the 
French  window,  and  I  look  out  over  a  very  pleasant 
collection  of  back  yards  — the  walls  heavily  hung 
with  English  ivy  and  Virginia  creeper  —  with  flower- 
ing bushes  and  horse-chestnut  trees,  and  the  backs  of 
houses  quite  a  distance  off.  There  are  no  back  alleys 
and  no  clothes  drying  ever —  how  the  thing  is  worked 
I  don't  know.  The  sky  is  hazy  blue  —  horizon  blue  in 
fact  —  and  there  are  wonderful  piles  of  clouds,  al- 
most as  blue  as  the  sky  at  the  base  and  in  the  folds, 
and  creamy  white  where  the  sun  strikes  them.  Every 
fifteen  minutes  the  chimes  ring,  and  the  only  other 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  49 

sound  is  the  indescribable  and  penetrating  whirr- 
burr-hum  of  an  aeroplane.  I  don't  think  I  ever  hap- 
pened to  mention,  did  I,  that  they  fly  overhead 
constantly  —  every  twenty  minutes  or  so,  I  should 
almost  say,  the  beautiful  things.  (There's  the  church 
chiming,  now.)  Each  cream-colored  cloud  is  outlined 
in  blue.  It  really  is  heavenly  and  we  shall  probably 
have  a  beautiful  sunset.  There  was  a  marvellous  one 
the  other  evening  which  I  watched  with  Louisa  H. 
from  her  window  —  little  pink  clouds  everywhere  and 
one  great,  dark,  chocolate-colored  one  flecked  with 
bright  gold.  The  aeroplanes  sound  more  than  any- 
thing else  like  Father's  centrifugal  blood  thing  — 
only  fluctuating,  and  with  a  harder,  more  metallic 
sound  when  the  sound  strikes  a  cloud.  The  third  since 
I  started  to  write  is  going  over,  but  that's  rather  a 
big  allowance;  they  are  probably  going  home  to  sup- 
per. The  other  day  during  the  14  juillet  procession  I 
counted  fifteen  in  sight  at  once. 

I  did  n't  get  through  work  till  late  to-day,  having 
started  early  and  taken  only  about  half  an  hour  for 
lunch.  All  this  extra  stuff  is  over  to-day,  however, 
and  no  one  knows  what  will  happen  after  the  transfer 
to-morrow.  This  afternoon  the  personnel  of  the  Am- 
bulance presented  the  chief  surgeon,  who  is  leaving, 
with  a  huge  loving-cup  —  a  quaint  present,  but 
given  with  most  intense  feeling  and  received  in  the 
same  way.  Almost  every  one  cried.  The  nurses  feel  as 
if  they  were  losing  their  best  friend,  and  the  patients 
do,  too,  I  think  —  ought  to,  anyway,  for  he  is  per- 
fectly angelic  to  them  and  is  always  sending  for  the 


50  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

wi\'es  of  the  very  sick  ones  out  of  his  own  pocket- 
book  and  doing  all  kinds  of  nice  things.  (Fourth  aero- 
plane.) I  send  you  a  kodak  of  him  and  Dr.  Gano, 
which  you  will  please  guard  soigneusement. 

I  send  you  also  the  picture  postal  of  me  and  my  six 
blesses  which  we  had  taken  on  the  Fourth.  Every  one 
of  these  men  is  a  perfect  peach  and  as  sweet  as  the 
lilacs  in  June.  If  I  were  choosing  the  best,  I  think  I  'd 
say  the  two  Zou-Zous :  they  are  angels,  both  of  them. 
Faucheron,  on  my  other  side,  really  has  many  scars 
round  the  jaw,  and  wears  an  appareil  to  hold  the  jaw 
in  place.  He  works  round  the  wards  almost  as  hard  as 
an  orderly  —  self-appointed  errand  boy  for  the  head 
nurse.  Mandin,  left  front,  is  just  as  nice  as  can  be, 
•though  he  has  n't  quite  the  heavenly  character  of  the 
Zou-Zous.  In  the  middle  is  Grandpere,  who  is  thirty- 
three  and  seems  like  a  worn-out  old  man  compared  to 
the  rest  of  the  babes.  He  is  rather  pathetic,  for  he  has 
n't  the  youth  and  gay  spirits  of  most  of  them.  How- 
ever, he  has  bis  own  joys  —  including  a  very  affec- 
tionate and  attractive  young  wife,  with  red  cheeks 
and  shining  brown  eyes,  and  two  children  who  he  says 
are  very  intelligent  and  whose  pictures  are  very  at- 
tractive. Boucher,  the  last,  is  like  a  big  Newfound- 
land dog  —  slow  and  not  strikingly  intellectual  (can't 
write  his  own  name),  but  absolutely  devoted  to 
the  helpless  men  in  his  ward,  carrying  them  round, 
doing  their  errands,  dressing  them,  etc.  He  is  not 
specially  attractive,  for  he  looks  so  heavy,  but  one 
gets  very  fond  of  him.  If  Michel  (the  farmer  lad)  and 
Le  Petit  Moineau  (who  no  longer  frowns,  but  is  the 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  51 

life  of  the  ward)  were  in  the  picture,  it  would  contain 
all  my  specialties.  When  Le  Petit  and  Michel  are 
evacuated  I  shall  weep  buckets. 

A.R.C.  Military  Hospital  I 
Neuilly-sur-Seine 

July  24 

Sunday  last  was  a  magnificent  day.  I  breakfasted 
de  luxe,  making  my  own  coffee  and  spreading  my 
bread  with  jam  I  was  reckless  enough  to  buy,  went  to 
the  hospital,  and  found  six  letters  from  the  U.S. 
Figurez-vous  quel  jour! 

We  had  an  inspection  visit  from  our  military  head 
yesterday.  He  looked  us  over  and  asked  questions 
about  us  in  our  presence  just  as  if  we  were  so  many 
horses,  and  it  was  screamingly  funny.  However,  this 
morning  I  was  introduced  again  in  Mrs.  Munroe's 
office  and  he  smiled  broadly  and  shook  hands  and 
said,  oh,  he'd  met  Miss  Putnam.  Yesterday  you 
would  n't  have  thought  he  could  possibly  smile,  let 
alone  notice  the  physiognomy  of  an  auxiliaire.  I  am 
rather  out  of  conceit  with  many  of  those  about  me  at 
present,  for  almost  every  one  regrets  that  we  are  no 
longer  the  American  Ambulance,  and  I  feel  borne  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind  —  or  something  equally  up- 
lifting and  invigorating  —  at  the  thought  that  we 
are  under  the  American  Government  and  part  of  the 
whole  machine.  I  love  it:  I  was  ready  to  work  hard 
before,  but  now  I  feel  ready  to  work  my  head  off. 
(Another  plane  overhead.) 


52  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

July  25 
To-day  has  been  a  long  one  and  I  want  to  get  to 
bed,  so  I  will  hastily  close  you  up  and  write  a  line  to 
Father,  perhaps.  The  change  in  head  doctor  has 
brought  a  change  in  the  method  of  keeping  histories 
which  is  rather  ennuyant.  I  now  don't  have  to  put 
them  into  French  at  all,  which  was  rather  fun,  and  I 
do  have  to  put  down  a  lot  of  other  details  which 
are  n't  so  amusing  —  such  as  when  the  man  had  his 
last  bath  and  last  put  on  clean  clothes,  and  what  was 
the  state  of  the  ground  on  which  he  fell.  A  whole  lot 
of  histories  were  brought  back  to  me  for  correction, 
as  I  had  n't  put  anything  after  "physical  examina- 
tion"—  we  never  have  —  and  that  was  laborious 
and  rather  boring  too.  I  gave  two  English  lessons, 
and  that  with  the  histories  took  the  whole  day.  There 
were  fifty-three  admissions  last  night  —  not  for  my 
corridor,  but  in  the  whole  hospital.  I  did  one  thing 
which  came  out  rather  well:  I  wrote  out  from  my 
own  observations  the  statement  of  an  operation  yes- 
terday and  the  doctor  said  it  was  all  right  and  left  it 
as  it  was.  Of  course,  it  was  the  simplest  thing,  but  I 
shall  try  it  again  the  next  time  I  can  get  to  an  opera- 
tion. This  one  was:  "Followed  sinus  from  wound  on 
anterior  face  of  right  thigh  downward  for  about  three 
inches,  making  small  incision  at  lower  end.  Removed 
pieces  of  decaying  bone.  Followed  sinus  from  upper 
wound,  interior  face,  to  lower,  removing  pieces  of 
bone  from  lower  extremity  of  upper  fragment  of  fe- 
mur. Drains  Carrel-Dakin." 

The  Muse  does  n't  seem  to  be  with  me  to-night; 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  53 

is  n't  that  a  shame  when  the  letters  have  to  go  to- 
morrow morning!  You  know  I  can  send  my  letters 
without  a  stamp;  is  n't  that  swagger?  Only  I  believe 
they  have  to  go  by  England  and  that  retards  them 
more  or  less,  so  I  don't  do  it. 

The  Henris'  is  an  excellent  place  to  live.  I  have 
breakfast  at  my  open  window  in  my  room  every  day, 
which  I  love.  Every  member  of  the  family  breakfasts 
at  a  different  hour,  beginning  with  Madame  Henri 
at  six  and  continuing  through  the  grandchildren  at 
eight.  I  read  while  I  eat  and  then  walk  over  to  the 
hospital  through  very  pleasant  streets  with  great 
trees  and  gardens  (walled)  on  both  sides,  and  am 
thoroughly  leisurely.  I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  I 
like  having  breakfast  alone.  The  food  is  very  good; 
vegetables  deliciously  cooked  and  always  fruit  for 
dessert.  Then  I  drink  pinard,  which  I  also  must  say  I 
like;  I  am  afraid  I  was  born  to  be  a  taster. 

'July  26 
This  afternoon  there  was  a  decoration  —  or  rather 
three  —  in  one  of  the  wards.  This  was  the  first  deco- 
ration I  had  seen  and  it  was  certainly  very  stirring. 
Two  Zouaves  got  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  a  third 
man  got  the  Croix  de  Guerre  with  palms.  The  man 
who  gave  the  medals  was  himself  a  Zouave,  in  the 
same  regiment  with  one  if  not  both  the  others.  The 
first  medal  was  for  one  Captain  Frot,  who  got  him- 
self out  of  his  chair  with  great  difficulty  and  stood  on 
two  crutches  while  the  man  read  out  in  a  loud  tone 
(there  were  only  a  dozen  or  so  officers  in  the  room, 


54  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

with  half  a  dozen  friends  and  a  dozen  nurses,  etc.) 
the  name  and  regiment  of  the  captain,  the  fact  that 
he  was  now  to  receive  the  Legion  of  Honor  after  five 
previous  citations,  and  the  present  citation;  then  he 
struck  him  on  each  shoulder  with  his  sword,  pinned 
the  medal  on,  and  kissed  him  on  either  cheek.  The 
other  Legion  of  Honor  man  was  in  bed,  but  in  his 
regimentals  and  red  Zouave  cap  all  the  same ;  he  had 
received  three  previous  citations.  The  third  man  was 
considerably  older,  also  a  captain,  and  this  was  his 
first  citation.  The  formal  part  being  over,  the  man 
threw  all  caution  to  the  winds  and  launched  forth 
into  the  most  delightful  account  of  Captain  Frot, 
who  had  entered  his  regiment  in  the  very  beginning, 
when  he  was  too  young  to  have  a  mustache,  and  who 
was  like  a  son  to  him,  —  with  a  little  bow  and  asking 
permission  to  speak  so  from  his  real  father  who  was 
present,  —  and  said  how  he  had  watched  his  progress 
and  how  there  never  was  any  one  like  him  for  courage 
and  self-forgetfulness  and  power  over  the  men  of  his 
company;  said  that  he  really  had  created  the  com- 
pany and  was  the  heart  and  soul  of  it ;  that  men  who 
came  back  after  being  wounded  always  wanted  to  get 
back  into  his  company;  and  so  on  at  considerable 
length.  It  was  quite  outside  the  ordinary  proceed- 
ings, I  think,  and  was  thrilling  —  the  man  spoke  with 
so  much  feeling.  It  was  very  interesting,  too,  to  have 
him  speak  of  his  authority  over  his  men,  for  he  is  so 
gentle  and  has  such  a  sweet  face  that  you  would  not 
have  picked  out  authority  as  being  a  characteristic. 
Then  the  man  spoke  of  each  of  the  others,  saying 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  55 

that  the  captain  who  got  his  Croix  de  Guerre  had 
gotten  it  for  seeking  out  opportunities  for  intelligent 
self-sacrifice,  and  that  it  meant  as  much  for  a  man  of 
his  age  to  get  his  first  medal  as  for  the  younger  ones 
to  get  their  higher  ones  —  or  something  like  that. 
The  whole  thing  was  so  very  genuine,  and  not  a  bit 
purely  formal  and  conventional.  Then,  of  course,  we 
had  something  light-colored  and  fizzy  out  of  a  bottle 
—  or  rather  many  bottles  —  and  every  one  touched 
glasses  and  drank  to  bonne  sant6.  The  conferring  of 
the  medals  was  not  unlike  the  conferring  of  Ph.D.'s, 
but  that  made  it  all  the  more  affecting  —  to  think  at 
what  kind  of  university  they  had  won  their  honors. 

July  27 
Worked,  the  earlier  part  of  the  morning,  in  Mrs. 
Munroe's  office  and  was  awarded  the  next  day  as  a 
holiday.  Found  I  was  n't  needed  in  the  afternoon, 
and  after  consulting  various  nurses  who  had  been 
there  decided  to  go  to  Fontainebleau  for  Friday 
night  and  all  day  Saturday  —  was  n't  that  extraor- 
dinarily reckless?  Oh,  I  had  such  a  good  time!  I  wired 
to  Bob  to  dine  with  me  on  my  arrival,  but  of  course 
he  did  n't  get  the  message  till  the  next  morning, 
though  I  sent  it  by  twelve  noon ;  so  I  dined  alone,  and 
then  strolled  down  some  darling  little  lanes,  peering 
shamelessly  through  the  little  gates  into  people's 
gardens  —  such  fascinating  gardens  and  little  cot- 
tages with  moss-grown  stone  roofs.  Lovely,  clear 
evening,  with  the  moon  in  the  first  quarter.  Went  to 
bed  early.  Breakfasted  next  morning  in  a  little  court- 


56  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

yard,  and  arranged  to  have  a  carriage  to  faire  a 
promenade  in  the  Foret  —  very  de  luxe,  I  know,  but 
it  proved  well  worth  it,  and  I  never  could  have  found 
any  of  the  loveliest  places  if  I  had  gone  unguided  on 
foot.  I  packed  up  my  picnic  things  (in  the  invaluable 
gold  bag,  which  brought  down  all  my  picnic  things 
as  well  as  night  things)  and  "Shirley,"  and  set  forth 
in  my  victoria  at  nine-fifteen,  driven  by  a  slightly 
garrulous  but  very  nice  reforme  —  and  there's  a 
word  I  don't  believe  even  my  learned  father  knows: 
it  means  a  soldier  who  has  been  so  badly  wounded 
that  after  he  is  well  he  can't  go  back  into  the  army; 
this  particular  reforme  had  a  resected  knee,  and  in 
consequence  a  jambe  rigide.  It  was  a  day  that  be- 
came very  hot,  indeed,  but  in  the  Forest  it  was  abso- 
lutely perfect.  The  Forest  extends  for  miles  and  miles 
and  is  the  most  beautiful  woods  I  have  almost  ever 
seen  —  slightly  cleaned  up  as  to  underbrush,  per- 
haps, but  so  well  done  that  it  seems  perfectly  wild 
and  natural;  great  huge  beeches,  some  birch,  holly, 
and  other  green-leaf  things.  It  is  very  much  like  the 
Canaumet  woods  on  a  giant  scale.  We  drove  to  vari- 
ous lookouts,  where  you  saw  a  great  valley,  like  a 
caiion,  below,  and  beyond  and  on  all  sides  nothing 
but  forest,  forest,  forest.  I  did  n't  suppose  there  was 
so  much  wild  territory  in  all  France  —  it  was  almost 
like  being  on  Haystack  and  looking  off.  The  great 
rocky  ledges  were  worn  smooth,  with  smooth  hollows 
and  basins  in  them,  and  the  valley  looked  just  as  if  it 
had  been  a  river-bed  once;  but  my  reform6  assured 
me  it  never  had  been.  The  light  was  marvellous  — 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  57 

that  extraordinary  golden  green  —  and  the  place 
smelled  so  sweet!  Heather  just  coming  out,  round  the 
ledges,  and  clumps  of  harebell  in  the  crevices.  And  si- 
lence. In  an  hour  and  three  quarters  we  only  met  one 
other  person.  I  arranged  to  be  left  about  a  half- 
hour's  walk  into  the  woods,  and  I  walked  some  dis- 
tance ofif  the  path  and  chose  the  trunk  of  a  huge 
hemlock,  or  something  of  that  ilk,  to  lean  against. 
The  ground  smelled  hot  and  delicious,  and  there 
were  real  stumps  with  real  toadstools  growing  on 
them.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  enjoyed  anything 
more.  I  had  my  little  solid  alcohol  saucepan,  and 
made  my  usual  delicious  coffee  with  plenty  of  con- 
densed milk,  which  is  much  better  than  the  milk  you 
get  regularly  here,  and  had  bread  with  cherry  jam. 
I  lay  on  my  back  and  basked,  and  I  read  "Shirley," 
and  spent  a  thoroughly  satisfactory  two  hours.  The 
forest  is  so  endless  that  one  could  easily  get  lost  there 
if  one  was  the  right  person  —  and  last  night  would 
have  been  a  perfect  one  to  spend  outdoors  —  but 
alas,  alas,  I  am  far  too  prudent  to  get  lost.  Well,  so 
then  I  walked  back  into  the  town  and  after  more  or 
less  endless,  and  scorching  hot,  alleys  and  yards,  I 
found  Bobby  at  the  Ecole  d'Artillerie.  We  strolled 
down  to  where  you  could  get  a  lovely  view  of  the 
Chateau,  across  two  formal  lakes  and  a  moat,  flanked 
on  each  side  by  marvellous  great  spruces,  and  had  a 
little  converse.  Then  visited  the  Chateau,  which  was 
just  like  every  other  chateau  except  that  it  had  a 
large  library  of  beautifully  bound  old  volumes  which, 
up  to  the  time  of  the  war,  was  open  to  any  one  of 


58  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

good  repute  in  Fontainebleau  —  open  once  a  month, 
when  you  could  take  out  four  or  five  volumes  and  re- 
turn them  the  following  month.  That  seemed  so  ex- 
traordinarily intelligent,  Christian,  and  up-to-date, 
that  it  marks  out  the  Chateau  from  others.  I  don't 
think  I  shall  go  through  any  more  of  them.  Went  back 
to  my  hotel  and  got  packed,  and  came  back  to  the 
town  for  dinner  with  Bobby  and  he  brought  me  back 
to  Neuilly,  reaching  there  about  half-past  eleven. 
People  are  so  funny;  I  asked  Madame  to-day  whether 
that  would  not  have  been  rather  late  to  come  home 
alone  —  there  is  a  twenty  minutes'  walk  down  quite 
empty  and  rather  dark  streets  —  and  she  said,  oh, 
no,  there  was  nothing  to  fear;  and  yet  she  thinks  it 
entirely  improper  to  go  round  the  corner  in  the  eve- 
ning without  a  hat. 

Worked  during  the  morning  and  talked  with  the 
lads  till  lunch;  then  came  here,  and  it  is  now  four, 
and  if  I  am  to  get  to  see  the  Janets  I  must  go  at  once. 
I  forgot  to  mention  that  they  were  part  of  my  origi- 
nal plan  at  Fontainebleau,  but  I  could  n't  find  a  trace 
of  them  there.  I  did  find  there,  however,  their  Paris 
address,  with  no  mention  of  their  living  at  Fontaine- 
bleau, so  I  guess  they've  moved. 

It  is  hot  to-day,  and  I  am  very  sleepy. 

I  went  to  see  them  in  spite  of  almost  deciding  to  go 
to  sleep  instead,  and  it's  just  as  well  I  did,  because 
they  are  going  to  Chamonix  Saturday.  Madame 
Janet  was  awfully  nice;  I  hardly  saw  himself  at  all, 
for  he  silently  disappeared  shortly  after  he  came  in  to 
say  "How  do  you  do."  You  should  hear  me  convers- 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  59 

ing  in  French  —  I  really  am  better  than  I  once  was, 
but  still  very  halting.  But  it's  fun.  They  have  not 
lived  in  Fontainebleau  since  the  war. 

August  8 
My  daily  routine  has  changed  more  or  less.  I  now 
go  to  Mrs.  Munroe's  office  at  half-past  eight  and  stay 
till  about  half-past  eleven;  then  go  down  and  do  my 
history  work ;  lunch  at  twelve  and  play  round  till  two ; 
go  again  to  Mrs.  Munroe's  office  and  stay  there  till  six 
if  she  wants  me,  as  she  has  all  this  past  week ;  then  go 
down  to  the  wards  again  and  give  two  English  lessons, 
not  going  home  till  half-past  seven.  Of  course  that 
sounds  much  harder  work  than  it  is,  for  it  is  not  at  all 
concentrated  —  and  can't  be.  Then  sometimes  in  the 
evening  I  go  to  bed  and  sometimes  give  an  English 
lesson  or  take  a  French  one.  One  afternoon  I  attended 
an  operation  on  one  of  my  men.  Yesterday  after- 
noon there  was  a  party  for  the  head  corridor  nurse, 
who  is  leaving.  We,  nurses,  auxiliaries,  and  doctor, 
gave  her  a  very  pretty  little  travelling-clock,  folding 
flat  like  a  picture  frame,  with  aluminum  —  no,  lumi- 
nous —  figures  and  hands.  The  officers  gave  her  a 
beautiful  portfolio  with  quantities  of  pockets  and  a 
little  nickel  ink-box.  It  was  a  complete  surprise  to 
her  and  a  great  success;  champagne,  of  course,  and 
most  delicious  pate  de  foie  gras  and  salad  sand- 
wiches —  and  the  graphophone  going  all  the  time. 
These  little  ward  parties  are  certainly  genial  affairs. 
To-day,  after  ten  days  or  more  of  continuous  rain, 
it  has  cleared  off  into  the  most  gorgeous  September 


6o  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

weather:  clear  and  cold,  with  masses  of  dazzling 
white  clouds  —  clear,  that  is,  barring  an  hour's  hard 
rain  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  To-morrow  is  Friday 
and  I  shall  work  hard  all  day,  as  Mrs.  Munroe  is 
away,  and  then  Saturday  I  am  going  to  Chartres  with 
Helena  F.  by  way  of  a  farewell  party  before  she  goes. 
We  are  going  to  spend  the  night  and  the  whole  of  the 
next  day  there. 

M.  Henri  owns,  I  should  say,  all  the  piano  music 
that  has  ever  been  written  —  and  plays  it  all.  He  has 
a  large  cupboard,  like  a  big  wardrobe,  entirely  full  of 
neat  black  folders  with  labels  on  the  back,  and  an  in- 
dex book.  There  are  several  folders,  for  instance,  of 
nothing  but  Beethoven  —  and  each  folder  Is  about 
an  inch  or  more  thick. 

August  9 
What  should  you  say  to  my  staying  over  beyond 
my  six  months?  Of  late,  as  you  know,  I  have  been 
helping  Mrs.  Munroe  in  all  kinds  of  odd  jobs  and  she 
wants  me  to  stay.  She  is  now  head  of  auxiliaries  in 
France,  a  Red  Cross  position  which  may  or  may  not 
develop  considerably  according  to  the  length  of  the 
war,  etc.  The  plan  is  to  have  the  auxiliaries  train  at 
our  hospital  for  a  few  months  and  then  be  placed  in 
the  various  Red  Cross  or  French  hospitals.  Mrs. 
Munroe  will  have  to  visit  the  other  hospitals  to  find 
out  the  conditions.  She  has  had  one  month's  vacation 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war  and  her  secretary  has 
had  in  all  two  weeks,  at  different  times.  She  says  they 
may  either  of  them  give  out  and  have  to  have  vaca- 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  6i 

tions,  any  moment,  and  she  must  have  some  one  who 
knows  the  routine  of  the  office  to  take  hold  with  the 
remaining  one.  The  work  I  am  doing  for  her  is  not  in 
itself  especially  exciting,  but  it  is  something  that  you 
have  to  work  into  and  I  am  a  good  way  in,  and  it  is 
absolutely  necessary.  I  would  keep  on  with  the  his- 
tory-taking, so  as  to  stay  in  touch  with  the  patients. 

That  is  the  case;  now  what  do  you  say?  If  it  were 
left  to  me  I  should  stay,  for  it  seems  to  me  I  could  be 
useful.  As  for  inclination  —  it  is  always  one's  inclina- 
tion to  be  useful ;  and  apart  from  that  my  inclination 
is  so  strong  both  ways  that  I  hate  to  think  of  not  do- 
ing either.  At  present  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  been 
here  about  two  weeks,  but  probably  I  shall  feel  differ- 
ently by  the  winter.  If  you  feel  that  you  can't  bear  to 
have  me  gone  more  than  the  allotted  term,  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  cable  "No."  I  will  wait  three  weeks 
for  you  to  do  that,  before  signing  on  with  the  Red 
Cross. 

Paul  W.  turned  up  in  the  front  office  to-day,  look- 
ing very  tall  and  thin  in  his  uniform  and  feeling 
rather  morose  because  he  had  come  in  the  night  train 
from  Boulogne  sitting  up  in  a  compartment  with 
seven.  Frenchmen  who  would  n't  let  the  window  be 
opened.  He  and  twenty-seven  other  docs  came  over 
as  part  of  the  American  Army,  were  transferred  to 
the  British  in  London,  to  the  French  in  Boulogne, 
and  are  still  a  bone  of  contention.  He  does  n't  know 
what  will  happen  to  them,  but  expects  to  be  sent  on 
somewhere  to-morrow. 


62  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

August  15 
We  had  the  most  perfect  trip  to  Chartres,  barring 
the  fact  that  we  missed  the  first  two  trains  we  tried 
for :  the  first  one  I  looked  up  wrong ;  and  for  the  sec- 
ond we  arrived  fully  two  minutes  ahead  of  time  and 
found  every  carriage  full  and  the  guards  simply 
would  n't  let  us  get  on;  we  just  had  to  stand  there 
with  our  mouths  open  and  watch  the  train  pull  out. 
We  couldn't  believe  it  had  happened;  we  had  ar- 
ranged the  whole  afternoon  (a  pleasant  one,  never- 
theless) with  the  one  idea  of  getting  that  train.  But 
eventually  we  arrived,  after  passing  through  the  most 
adorable  little  collections  of  picture-book  cottages 
you  ever  dreamed  of,  and  spent  the  night  in  a  very 
spick  and  span  hotel,  where  the  next  morning  I  had 
my  third  bath  since  reaching  France.  We  reached  the 
cathedral  at  eleven  minus  the  quarter,  assisted  at 
mass  for  about  an  hour,  went  out  for  lunch,  took  a 
walk,  returned  and  had  another  hour's  service,  went 
out  for  tea,  and  came  back  for  half  an  hour  more,  this 
time  in  complete  solitude.  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  ever 
again  should  see  anything  as  beautiful.  It  was  an 
overcast  day,  and  when  we  first  went  in  we  could  see 
no  details  —  just  darkness,  enclosed  somehow,  loom- 
ing up  all  around  us.  Then  gradually  the  windows 
began  to  glow  and  finally  all  the  pillars  and  arches 
were  lighted  up  by  the  wonderful  deep  light  coming 
down  from  all  the  ages  through  thousands  of  jewels. 
I  can't  describe  the  richness  and  fact-in-itselfness  of 
the  light  —  you  felt  swallowed  up  in  beauty.  The 
glass  must  be  the  best  in  any  cathedral,  I  should 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  63 

think;  I  could  stay  there  gazing  at  it  forever.  Then 
the  music  was  beautiful  at  both  services,  especially  in 
the  afternoon  when  there  was  a  full  choir  as  well  as  the 
organ.  Oh,  it  was  wonderful,  wonderful,  wonderful, 
and  never  to  be  forgotten.  Helena  and  I  have  made  a 
rendezvous  there  for  Easter;  but  I  don't  promise  not 
to  go  down  there  again  in  the  interval ;  it  strikes  me 
as  being  singularly  worth  while. 

This  afternoon  I  am  going  in  to  St.  Sulpice,  where 
they  are  said  to  have  very  fine  music,  for  it  is  a  great 
church  festival  —  the  Assumption.  To-morrow,  if 
still  alive,  I  am  going  to  Evreux  to  spend  the  day 
with  Louisa  and  Penelope. 

August  21 
Last  Thursday  I  went  to  Evreux  as  scheduled.  It  is 
a  most  beautiful  trip,  and  the  day  was  perfect.  The 
train  runs  along  the  side  of  a  great  hill  much  of  the 
way  and  partly  along  a  little  ridge  between  two  val- 
leys. You  have  long  views  down  winding  valleys 
with  a  river  or  two  at  the  bottom,  and  the  slopes  all 
cultivated  in  narrow  strips  of  different  shades  of 
green  and  brown.  Up  on  the  high  ground,  right  by  the 
railroad  or  across  the  valley,  are  the  darling  little  vil- 
lages, almost  all  roofs  —  delightful  red-brown  moss- 
grown  roofs  —  and  garden  walls  covered  with  grape- 
vines; and  each  village  with  its  miniature  cathedral. 
The  sky  was  very  blue  with  masses  of  very  white 
clouds  —  just  the  day  for  a  high  hill  and  deep  valley 
landscape.  Evreux  itself  is  a  pleasant  town  with  a 
very  steep  grassy  hill  right  behind,  and  good  though 


64  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

not  wonderful  cathedral,  and  a  gem  of  an  old  church. 
The  hospital  is  still  full  of  Boche  prisoners,  and  the 
girls  live  in  an  old  chateau  —  very  empty,  and  light 
and  airy  —  down  the  street  a  way.  We  went  out  to  a 
hotel  for  lunch,  and  after  lunch  climbed  the  hill  and 
lay  on  our  backs  in  the  sun,  looking  across  the  town 
to  other  hills,  and  hearing  the  incessant  soft  boom  of 
the  cannon.  It  is  not  any  nearer  the  front  than  Paris, 
but  being  high  up,  and  away  from  the  city  noise,  you 
always  hear  it  there.  The  other  night  they  heard  an 
attack  begin,  perfectly  distinctly.  The  war  news  is  so 
fine  to-day !  —  the  French  attack  at  Verdun,  and  the 
great  number  of  prisoners  taken  by  them  and  by  the 
Italians.  We  are  wondering  whether  the  Americans 
are  not  at  Verdun.  .  .  . 

Friday  night  Lucy  Fletcher  and  I  dined  up  on 
Montmartre,  and  afterward  went  over  to  take  a  look 
at  Notre  Dame.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  in 
Paris  in  the  evening  when  I  was  responsible  for  find- 
ing the  way,  and  it  gave  you  the  queerest  feeling  to 
get  lost  (as  far  as  not  being  able  to  find  what  you 
wanted  goes).  It  was  absolutely  pitchy  dark.  We  got 
out  of  the  Metro  on  the  Cit6  and  literally  felt  our 
way  down  two  streets,  and  then  there  was  the  river 
most  unexpectedly  and  I  was  so  turned  round  I  had 
absolutely  no  idea  which  way  to  go  and  we  had  to  en- 
quire, twice,  in  fact.  Then  coming  back  we  tried  to 
find  the  same  Metro  (which  I  have  taken  half  a  dozen 
times  before)  and  entirely  failed,  and  had  to  cross  the 
river  and  look  for  the  next  station.  Lucy  is  a  rock 
of  calmness,  but  I  confess  that  I  felt  just  as  if  I  were 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  65 

in  a  nightmare  and  should  have  to  spend  the  night 
wandering  round  the  pot-black''  and  endless  streets. 
Neuilly  is  relatively  well  lighted  and  there  are  no 
streets  to  get  lost  in.  I  am  glad,  however,  to  have 
realized  how  dark  Paris  is. 

I  don't  think  I  have  told  you  anything  about  my 
pupil  Teilhard,  who  is  really  quite  a  charmer.  He  also 
is  a  farmer,  but  not  the  hand-to-soil  farmer  that 
Michel  is.  I  gather  that  he  is  very  well  off,  and  he 
has  extensive  vegetable  gardens  —  growing  much  the 
same  vegetables  we  do.  He  has  a  very  smart-looking 
sister.  He  is  an  officer,  of  course.  I  was  so  surprised 
the  other  day  when  I  first  saw  him  out  of  bed,  for  he 
is  miles  tall,  and  most  of  them  are  small.  His  charm 
lies  in  the  fact  that  he  almost  always  says  the  unex- 
pected thing  (rather  a  pose,  I  think,  but  it  gets  you 
all  the  same)  and  that  he  blushes  every  time  he 
laughs.  For  the  rest,  he  looks  quite  sick  with  great 
big  eyes  in  the  thinnest  possible  face.  But  when  he  is 
talking  to  you  it  is  just  to  you  and  that  is  very  en- 
dearing. He  is  an  extraordinarily  devout  Catholic, 
having  little  private  masses  every  other  morning 
early;  but  he  has  a  great  sense  of  humor.  I  have  just 
left  him  Alan  Seeger's  poems,  to  prepare  one  for  to- 
morrow. 

More  than  time  for  bed,  so  good-night.  "Bien  le 
bonjour  a  tous  les  camarades,"  as  the  boys  say. 

September  4,  1917 
You  will  be  thunderstruck  to  receive  this  letter  in 
an  ordinary  plain  envelope,  instead  of  the  gay,  little, 


66  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

daintily  scented  affairs,  in  which  I  flatter  myself  my 
epistles  have  heretofore  arrived.  But  that  is  not  the 
worst:  henceforth,  no  stirring  accounts  of  aeroplan- 
ists  falling  in  rapid  multitudes  through  the  sky,  vic- 
tims of  air  battles;  no  more  pen-pictures  of  our  Ameri- 
can laddies  in  camp,  no  more  harassing  tales  of 
trench  warfare,  or  still  more  harrowing  sketches  of 
the  treatment  we  ourselves  are  undergoing  —  all 
color,  all  life,  all  emotion  is  torn  from  my  poor  letters 
by  the  following: 

Letters  written  by  the  personnel  of  this  Unit  must  com- 
ply with  the  following  regulations: 

1.  Envelopes  must  be  plain,  and  bear  no  return  ad- 
dress whatsoever. 

2.  No  mention  must  be  made  of  any  city  or  town  in 
France  which  would  give  a  clue  as  to  where  the 
writer  is  or  has  been  stationed  or  where  any  other 
Unit  or  body  of  troops  is  or  has  been  stationed. 

3.  No  mention  must  be  made  of  any  military  opera- 
tions or  of  the  movement  of  troops  or  of  aeroplane 
activities,  nor  any  statement  concerning  the  physical 
condition  or  morale  of  the  armies. 

4.  No  critical  statements  of  any  kind  are  to  be  made 
concerning  any  thing  or  person  connected  with  the 
military  establishment  of  the  United  States  or  of  any 
of  the  Allies. 

5.  No  maps,  pictures,  photographs,  or  negatives  of  any 
kind  may  be  enclosed  in  a  letter,  nor  any  statement 
sent  for  publication  in  any  newspaper  or  magazine. 

6.  The  only  address  allowed  by  the  censor  is:  American 
Red  Cross  Military  Hosp.  i,  American  Expedition- 
ary Forces,  France.  Distinctive  addresses,  such  as 

or ,  must  not  appear  on  either  envelopes  or 

enclosures. 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  67 

7,  Correspondence  must  be  signed  by  name  in  full,  not 
by  given  name  only. 

8.  Letters  are  to  be  mailed  at  the  Rue  Borghese  entrance 
and  are  to  be  left  unsealed. 

Etc.,  etc.  (Signed)  

Lieut. -Colonel  M.C.,  Commanding. 

Did  you  ever,  in  your  life?  Well,  you  will  all  have 
to  exercise  your  imaginations  as  you  never  did  be- 
fore, reading  my  well-known  likes  and  dislikes  into 
all  statements  of  facts.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  where 
we  are  stationed!  It  is  a  great  grief  not  to  be  allowed 
to.  I  think,  however,  that  it  is  safe  to  tell  you  that  we 
are  in  a  smallish  town  near  a  largish  city,  through 
which  flows  a  medium-sized  river;  but  not  a  word 
more  —  the  rest  you  must  construct  for  yourselves 
out  of  your  scanty  material. 

Another  reason  why  you  will  never  have  another 
decent  letter  from  me  is  that  I  am  so  everlastingly 
busy.  Especially  this  week,  because  Miss  Hall,  Mrs. 
Munroe's  secretary,  is  away  for  a  week's  holiday,  so 
I  am  really,  instead  of  theoretically,  on  duty  from 
eight  to  six.  Of  course  that  does  n't  allow  any  time  to 
see  the  men  or  give  my  English  lessons,  so  I  do  that 
from  six  to  half-past  seven  —  et  voila  une  longue 
journee.  I  have  also  taken  on  a  new  corridor  in  addi- 
tion to  the  old  one,  for  histories,  which  is  very  nice 
and  very  interesting,  but  more  work  than  the  other, 
as  the  new  doctor  dictates  a  fairly  long  diagnosis,  de- 
scription of  wounds,  etc.,  and  I  take  it  in  shorthand 
and  write  out  the  whole  on  the  typewriter,  making, 
of  course,  a  much  better-looking  sheet. 


68  ON  DL[TY  AND  OFF 

I  don't  think  I  told  you  of  a  picnic  Miss  Wilson 

and  I  had  out  at  St.  C ,  a  town  not  far  from  here. 

(I  think  I  had  better  at  once  adopt  A.T.N. F.F.H.  for 
the  above  phrase,  and  A.L.N.C.  for  a  large  near-by 
city,  it  will  save  so  much  time.)  Well,  aforesaid  town 
has  a  very  lovely  park  on  a  cliff  or  prominence,  over- 
looking A.L.N.C.  and  underlooking  a  beautiful  ex- 
panse of  sky.  We  started  forth  about  five,  with  a  bag 
full  of  provisions  for  a  most  delicious  supper,  and  af- 
ter taking  the  wrong  car  and  walking  miles  and  miles, 
we  arrived,  selected  a  grassy  place  with  the  best  pos- 
sible view,  spread  forth  our  viands  —  and  discovered 
that  the  only  thing  we  had  forgotten  was  the  solid 
alcohol!  So  we  had  a  most  healthful  meal  of  bread 
and  butter,  and  carried  back  our  coffee,  condensed 
milk,  bacon,  and  eggs.  We  had  remembered  matches. 
Nevertheless,  the  morale  (I  think  we  are  neither  of 
us  members  of  the  armies,  though  I  am  not  quite 
sure)  of  the  picnickers  was  such  that  they  had  a  per- 
fect time  in  spite  of  slight  drawbacks.  The  sky  did  its 
best  for  us,  and  its  best  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at  — 
gorgeous  masses  of  goldy  and  blackish  clouds,  just 
letting  the  sun  through  in  little  driblets  and  streaks 
that  moved  gradually  across  A.L.N.C,  lighting  up 
first  one  striking  and  familiar  landmark  after  another; 
last  of  all  a  snow-white  church,  of  Moorish  turrets, 
which  stands  on  top  of  a  hill.  ...  I  tell  you  how  I  can 
speak  of  places  here,  without  bothering  any  one  — 
I  will  call  the  L.N.C.  Boston,  and  A.T.N.F.F.H. 
Brookline,  or  Chelsea,  or  Dover,  as  the  case  may 
nearest  seem.  .  .  . 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  69 

I  have  been  twice  to  lunch  at  Miss  Radcliffe's, 
and,  oh  my,  the  food!  Never  have  I  tasted  anything 
equal  to  it  in  all  my  days.  And  there  was  an  ambulan- 
cier  there,  just  back  from  Chemin  des  Dames,  where 
he  —  oh,  but,  alas,  that  would  be  his  physical  condi- 
tion. Well,  anyhow,  he  is  going  back  to  his  wife  and 
three  children  and  I  fancy  they  may  like  to  spend 
some  time  at  Saranac  —  the  mountains  are  so  lovely 
all  the  year  round.  He  told  all  kinds  of  thrilling  tales 
—  so  thrilling  that  it  just  made  every  emotion  in  you 
come  to  the  surface  at  once.  Even  discounting  some- 
what for  a  vivid  temperament,  as  his  evidently  is, 
your  hair  would  stand  on  end  with  horror  and  joy 
and  interest,  to  hear  him.  The  first  time  he  took  me 
home  in  a  taxi,  which  he  had  kept  waiting  all  the  time 
we  lunched  and  talked,  and  the  second  time  he  called 
for  me  and  took  me  over  in  a  taxi;  that  was  rather 
chic,  was  n't  it?  I  am  invited  to  go  again  this  Tues- 
day, but  I  can't  get  off.  Miss  Radcliffe  and  the  Le- 
coques  were  just  as  nice  and  cordial  as  they  could  pos- 
sibly be,  and  most  agreeable.  The  house  has  all  sorts 
of  beautiful  things  in  it.  Do  you  know,  I  am  the  only 
woman  of  my  acquaintance  here,  French  and  Ameri- 
can alike,  including  little  Denise  Henri,  fourteen  years 
old,  who  does  n't  smoke?  I  have  always  hated  it  when 
I  have  tried  it,  but  I  feel  rather  out  of  it,  I  must  con- 
fess, from  a  social  point  of  view. 

I  am  having  a  beautiful  time  in  my  best  ward  now, 
being  appreciated.  The  nurse  whom  they  adored  has 
gone  and  they  detest  the  new  one. 


70  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

September  6 
I  suppose  I  may  consider  that  I  am  to  stay  over  — 
have  been  so  considering,  in  fact,  for  some  time.  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  see  through  a  winter  here, 
though  the  autumn  has  set  in  very  badly,  —  cold  and 
rainy,  —  and  every  one  feels  moved  to  tell  you  how 
truly  awful  the  winter  is.  Apparently  it  sleets  almost 
all  winter,  and  the  cold  penetrates  to  the  marrow  and 
never  leaves.  Everything  is  damp  all  the  time  and  it 
is  so  dark  that  you  can't  read  in  a  room  with  two  big 
windows  after  half-past  two  without  artificial  light. 
Sounds  jolly,  does  n't  it?  You  get  a  cold  that  you 
keep  for  months,  and  food  gets  worse  and  worse!  But 
as  I  say,  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  what  it  is  like. 

I  wish  I  could  have  had  you  with  me  out  on  the 
corner  terrace  late  this  afternoon.  It  is  really  the 
pleasantest  time  of  the  day,  for  my  particular  men 
are  most  of  them  collected  there,  on  sprawlers  or  in 
wheel-chairs,  and  the  day  nurses  have  gone  and  the 
night  nurses  not  come,  and  there  is  a  general  air  of 
sociability  and  relaxation.  I  usually  leave  the  office 
just  after  six,  tired  and  prepared  to  go  straight 
home;  but  I  have  to  pass  by  that  little  terrace  and  I 
never  am  able  to  resist  sitting  down  and  spending  an 
hour  or  so  —  and  get  quite  rested  in  the  process. 
They  are  so  nice.  There  are  three  particularly  nice 
new  men ;  one  very  rosy-cheeked  and  round  and  cun- 
ning; another,  just  very  nice  with  a  lean  face  and  very 
blue  eyes  that  laugh  in  a  most  infectious  way;  and  the 
third  quite  a  beauty,  rather  Spanish  style  —  espe- 
cially in  the  evening  when  his  temperature  goes  up 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  71 

and  gives  him  bright  color  to  contrast  with  his 
masses  of  wavy,  jet-black  hair  and  very  dark  gray 
eyes.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what  it  is  about  these 
men  that  is  so  utterly  different  from  Americans  and 
so  thoroughly  charming;  great  abandon  and  respon- 
siveness are  two  things  —  no  pent-up,  restrained, 
self-conscious  emotions.  No,  that's  not  it  at  all;  I 
guess  I  can't  tell  you  —  and  you  will  never  know 
from  pictures,  for  I  did  n't  from  Jamie's,  and  it  takes 
time  before  you  feel  it  even  with  the  actual  men;  at 
least  it  did  me.  Their  touch  is  lightness  itself  — 
that's  nearer  the  central  point  than  anything  I  have 
got  yet.  Then  they  suddenly  say  something  that 
makes  you  want  to  cry,  like  poor  old  Petit,  who  said 
this  morning:  "Mees,  I  dreamed  last  night  that  I  was 
walking  around  on  my  two  legs,  and  it  was  so  nice." 
As  soon  as  he  is  in  condition,  Petit  and  I  are  going  to 
take  a  cab  and  go  in  to  A.L.N.C.  and  have  him  fitted 
with  the  very  finest  American  leg  we  can  find,  and 
then  we  are  going  to  have  a  wonderful  dejeuner  — 
the  latter  part  of  the  plan  being  Petit's.  This  morning 
I  went  into  one  of  the  wards  where  they  have  only 
jaw  cases,  to  talk  with  one  of  them  who  is  printing 
photographs  for  me,  and  seeing  ten  or  so  together 
that  way,  every  one  with  his  face  ruined  (tempora- 
rily at  least) ,  none  of  them  able  to  speak  intelligibly, 
all  of  them  drooling  and  sucking,  just  made  me  shud- 
der. When  you  see  them  separately,  as  I  have  done 
right  along,  you  so  quickly  learn  to  know  them  that 
you  entirely  forget  their  looks. 
When  I  got  back  to  the  ofhce  I  found  my  filleul, 


72  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  one  I  took  of  my  own  free  will  (I  had  to  get  rid  of 
the  other),  waiting  to  see  me.  He  is  quite  sweet  and 
unbelievably  ugly.  So  I  made  a  rendezvous  with  him 
for  seven  o'clock,  met  him  at  the  Porte  Maillot  and 
took  him  to  a  Duval  restaurant  for  dinner,  and  then 
across  the  street  to  a  very  good  cinema.  He  enjoyed 
the  dinner  enormously,  I  may  say.  He  tucked  his 
ser\uette  in  his  neck  and  always  wiped  his  mouth 
with  the  back  of  his  hand,  saying  as  he  did  so  that  it 
was  so  long  since  he  had  had  a  napkin  that  he  did  n't 
know  what  to  make  of  it,  and  after  the  soup,  and 
4galement  the  beans,  he  took  up  his  plate  and  drank 
what  remained  —  which  was  very  little.  When  two 
elegant  French  gentlemen  sat  down  next  us  he  offered 
them  our  partly  used  bottle  of  mineral  water  (I  did 
not  confine  him  to  mineral  water)  —  which  may  of 
course  be  de  regie,  I  don't  know,  but  it  seemed  odd. 
However,  they  took  it  very  well  and  conversed  with 
us  more  or  less,  my  boy  usually  leading  the  conversa- 
tion. He  calls  me  just  plain  "  Marraine  "  and  says  it 
every  third  word  —  "Yes,  Marraine,"  "No,  Mar- 
raine." It  sounds  just  as  if  he  were  calling  me  "  mere." 
Mother  asked  me,  by  the  way,  if  I  always  wore  my 
veil  in  the  street;  I  don't  at  all,  or  hardly  ever,  but 
when  I  go  out  with  blesses  or  filleuls,  I  do;  that  at 
once  explains  the  situation  to  any  one  and  in  a  veil  I 
really  believe  you  could  go  anywhere  or  do  anything. 
I  enjoyed  the  cinema  much  more  than  my  godson 
did,  and  yet  he  ought  to  have,  for  it  was  very  funny, 
part  of  it,  and  the  humor  of  at  least  one  of  the  plays 
was  broad  enough  to  suit  any  one.  Perhaps  the  fact 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  73 

that  they  are  all  American  makes  them  more  amus- 
ing to  us,  though  the  audience  as  a  whole  roared  with 
laughter.  The  part  of  it  I  really  enjoyed  most  he  did 
too  —  the  pictures  of  the  war.  He  kept  laughing  with 
glee  when  the  cannon  went  off,  and  saying,  "  C'est 
bien  ga,  Marraine."  He  talked  to  all  the  people  in 
front  of  us  and  behind  us,  and  they  seemed  to  regard 
it  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  I  have  n't 
seen  any  war  pictures  over  here  before,  and  you  can't 
imagine  how  queer  it  is  to  have  the  thus  and  so  at 
Morte  Homme,  or  C6te  304,  or  Chemin  des  Dames 
thrown  on  the  screen,  when  I  have  had  men  from 
them  all ;  somehow  cinemas  never  seem  at  all  real  at 
home,  but  these  did,  I  can  tell  you.  Then  in  an  evacu- 
ation from  a  hospital  at  the  front,  one  of  those  whose 
names  I  have  so  often  written  on  my  records,  there 
were  our  ambulances,  or  at  least  the  American  Field, 
looking  so  exactly  as  they  do  that  I  could  n't  believe 
I  was  n't  in  the  Ambulance  yard.  I  want  to  go  again; 
but  it  begins  at  half-past  eight  and  that  means  an  aw- 
ful rush  after  dinner,  as  the  war  pictures  come  first. 
Saturday  I  went  to  dinner  with  Bobby  and  George 
and  had  a  most  wonderful  party.  I  met  them  at  their 
hotel  —  having  spent  my  first  night  in  A.L.N.T. 
there  I  still  feel  as  if  I  owned  it  —  and  we  took  a 
taxi  and  drove  through  the  Place  de  la  X.Y.Z.  and 
across  the  river,  with  a  most  gorgeous  sunset  up  the 
boulevard  behind  the  Arc,  and  reflected  in  the  river, 
and  called  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crocker,  .  .  .  and  then 
drove  for  miles,  more  or  less,  out  beyond  the  city 
limits  to  the  Pare  Montsouris,  where  there  is  a  de- 


74  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Ughtful  little  restaurant  called  Pavilion  du  Lac,  be- 
cause if  there  had  been  enough  light  we  should  have 
found  ourselves  near  a  darling  little  pond.  As  it  was, 
there  was  no  light,  but  you  had  the  feeling,  as  you  sat 
out  on  the  back  piazza  of  the  Pavilion,  that  endless 
country  spread  before  you,  more  endless,  I  dare  say, 
because  of  the  darkness.  Anyhow,  the  wind  blew 
through  the  trees,  and  it  was  delicious  —  and  there 
were  lots  of  stars.  In  the  large  room  —  there  is  only 
one  —  there  was  a  wedding  party,  of  about  fifteen 
people,  bride  in  white  lace  and  veil  with  wreath  of 
orange  blossoms,  and  everything  very  comme  il  faut. 
We  were  on  the  piazza,  just  outside  an  open  door, 
with  a  low  screen  between  us,  and  there  was  no  one 
else  there  at  all.  Of  course,  we  peeped  over  the  screen, 
and  then  they  came  and  peered  back,  and  pretty 
soon  we  were  drinking  healths  all  round,  and  the 
bride  came  out  and  gave  us  little  artificial  orange 
blossoms  from  her  wreath.  They  had  a  good  deal  of 
singing  —  solos,  of,  one  would  say,  the  most  doleful 
character,  all  minor  and  about  sixteen  verses  long, 
which  Mrs.  Crocker  says  are  the  regular  and  neces- 
sary accompaniment  of  a  French  wedding  dinner. 
They,  and  we,  got  gradually  more  and  more  warmed 
up,  and  when  they  sat  down  and  started  to  play 
dance  music,  one  of  the  girls  came  out  and  invited 
George  to  dance  —  which  he  at  once  did.  Then  an- 
other invited  us  all  in,  and  for  about  an  hour  we  had 
the  most  delightful  Bostoning  —  delightful,  that  is 
for  those  of  us  who  danced  with  each  other ;  the  men 
who  danced  with  the  French  girls  had  the  worst  of  it, 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  75 

for  the  girls  could  n't  reverse.  They  could  n't  play 
particularly  well,  and  neither  could  Mrs.  Crocker, 
and  you  know  that  I  have  but  a  poor  pennyworth  of 
dance  music,  but  between  us  we  managed  to  have  a 
great  time;  and  when  it  came  to  going  home,  the 
girls  kissed  Bobby  and  George  and  Mr.  Crocker  (who 
was  in  U.S.  uniform)  soundly  on  both  cheeks,  and  me 
too.  We  were  all  turned  out  of  the  restaurant,  ac- 
cording to  law,  about  half-past  ten,  and  the  whole 
party  (from  which  we  speedily  detached  ourselves,  as 
we  had  no  wish  to  be  run  in)  went  carousing  and 
snake-dancing  down  the  street,  singing  "  Madelon, 
Madelon,  Madelon"  at  the  top  of  their  lungs.  I  will 
get  the  music  and  send  it  home  —  the  boys  sing  it  a 
great  deal.  Now,  I  ask  you,  was  n't  that  a  party? 
And  incidentally  we  had  the  best  dinner  I  have  ever 
eaten.  They  were  so  cordial,  and  we  had  such  a  good 
time  —  none  of  us  had  danced  for  ages. 

September  9 
I  had  a  morning  off,  and  cooked  one  of  my  inimita- 
ble little  breakfasts  —  the  big  treat  this  time  being  a 
poor  attempt  at  toast.  At  eleven  I  went  to  the  Rus- 
sian Church,  which  is  wonderful;  the  next  time  you 
are  here  you  must  do  that,  if  nothing  else.  You  go  into 
a  round  church,  quite  small  in  area,  with  round 
arches  every  direction  —  overhead,  and  an  upper 
and  a  lower  one  on  each  side  —  something  like  St. 
Sophia.  The  walls  are  all  covered  with  either  mosaic 
or  frescoes,  I  am  uncertain  which,  in  effect  like  the 
front   of  St.    Mark's  —  dull   gold   background   and 


76  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

really  beautiful  figures  in  soft,  full  colors.  The  floor  is 
covered  with  a  thick  carpet,  and  there  are  almost  no 
chairs  or  seats  of  any  kind;  every  one  stands  through- 
out the  hour  and  a  quarter.  The  first-floor  round  arch 
opposite  where  you  come  in  is  filled  up  about  half- 
way with  a  very  beautiful  screen,  in  this  same  gold 
and  color  —  panels,  with  figures,  and  carved  wood 
between  panels.  I  must  try  to  get  some  pictures  of  it  to 
send  you,  for  I  loved  it.  In  the  centre  of  the  screen 
was  an  open-work  door  —  brass,  I  should  say  —  which 
was  closed.  There  were  a  few  little  side  altars,  but 
arranged  symmetrically,  and  all  making  part  of  the 
general  scheme  and  beautiful  in  themselves,  instead  of 
making  a  most  awful  melange  the  way  they  do  in  the 
cathedrals.  People  bought  candles,  and  came  and 
lighted  them  and  stuck  them  in  a  circle  in  front  of 
these  little  shrines,  but  the  candles  were  real,  and  the 
little  yellow  flames  were  lovely.  When  the  service  be- 
gan, the  priests  were  behind  the  screen,  and  the  door 
still  shut,  with  a  heavy  curtain  hung  behind  it.  The 
whole  place  was  so  tiny  that  you  heard  everything 
perfectly  clearly.  There  were  a  few  minutes  of  inton- 
ing, and  then  the  most  exquisite  singing  burst  forth 
you  can  imagine;  it  was  the  Russian  choir  we  heard 
at  Symphony  Hall,  Father,  only  invisible,  and  in  the 
most  fitting  surroundings.  After  a  short  time  the  cur- 
tain was  drawn  and  the  doors  opened,  showing  the 
big  altar  —  the  simplest  table,  with  a  beautiful  great 
mosaic  behind  it  and  seven  yellow  candles,  coming  up 
in  a  peak,  in  front  —  and  a  priest  dressed  in  crimson 
velvet,  an  old  man,  with  a  long,  black  beard.  The 


FRENCH  WOUNDED  77 

whole  service,  which  lasted  more  than  an  hour,  con- 
sisted of  intoning,  with  responses  by  the  choir,  and 
two  readings  from  the  Bible  (apparently),  and  two  or 
three  anthems.  It  was  very  religious  in  feeling,  and 
the  singing  was  perfect.  How  I  wish  you  could  go 
there!  You  would  all  simply  adore  it.  Sunday,  alas,  is 
a  hard  day  for  me  to  get  off,  but  I  shall  go  as  often  as 
I  can.  It  was  nothing  at  all  like  one's  idea  of  a  church, 
and  yet  it  was  as  churchly  as  possible  —  the  building, 
I  am  referring  to  now. 

Came  back  to  lunch  at  the  Ambulance,  worked  till 
six,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  hour  on  the  terrace.  Al- 
together a  good  day.  .  .  . 

I  see  so  many  neurotic  people!  I  don't  mean  at  the 
hospital,  but  in  the  cars,  and  at  public  places.  I  don't 
know  whether  it  is  the  war,  or  whether  I  have  physi- 
cal signs  rather  on  my  mind. 


CHAPTER  III 

U.S.  AIR  SERVICE,  PARIS  HEADQUARTERS 

September  13 
You  will  be  as  surprised  as  possible  before  you  have 
finished  this  letter,  but  you  can't  be  much  more  sur- 
prised than  I.  This  morning  I  was  peacefully  in  the 
office,  when  the  telephone  rang  for  me  and  Amy 
Bradley  asked  me  to  go  in  to  lunch  with  her.  It  tran- 
spired that  Betty  Potter  would  be  there,  too,  and  had 
some  business  to  talk  to  me  about.  After  lunch,  all 
the  other  girls  filed  silently  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
me  and  Betty  for  our  business  conversation,  and  then 
she  outlined  to  me  a  position  she  considered  most  im- 
portant—  secretarial  work  at  the  technical  depart- 
ment of  the  Aviation  Headquarters.  The  position  had 
been  offered  her  by  her  friend  Mr.  Skinner,  and  she 
had  refused  it.  They  were  in  desperate  need  of  an 
American  secretary,  and  implored  her  to  come  if  only 
for  a  few  weeks,  and  she  promised  to  give  them  her 
three  weeks'  vacation  time  or  find  some  one  else. 
Well,  she  made  me  feel  that  it  was  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  go  and  talk  to  Mr.  Skinner,  and  the  up- 
shot is  that  I  am  "confidential  secretary  to  Major  — 
Somebody,"  and  begin  work  there  Monday  at  nine.  I 
wish  I  ccnild  give  you  his  line  of  argument,  or  rather 
the  details,  for  I  can  give  you  the  line;  anyhow,  he 
made  me  feel  that  I  simply  had  no  right  not  to  go  if 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  79 

they  wanted  me.  He  feels  that  our  great  contribution 
to  the  war  is  airplanes,  and  that  the  quality  and 
quantity  we  turn  out  in  the  next  six  months  may  de- 
termine the  war,  and  will  certainly  decide  whether  it 
is  to  be  six  months  longer  or  shorter;  and  that  if  the 
work  failed  anywhere  along  the  line  it  would  be  the 
worst  failure  we  could  make;  and  that  one  place  it 
might  fail  would  be  in  the  office  —  if  they  did  n't 
have  the  right  personnel  —  and  that  at  present  they 
lacked  painfully  an  American  secretary.  He  said  that 
in  his  mind  there  was  absolutely  no  question  as  to 
whether  I  ought  to  give  up  the  work  at  the  hospital 
or  not;  that  where  there  I  was  helping  to  care  for  a 
few  hundred  bless6s,  here  I  would  be  helping  prevent 
there  being  thousands  of  blesses,  by  shortening  the 
war.  I  can't  tell  you  all  the  things  he  said  but  I  just 
felt  I  'd  got  to  do  it.  Mrs.  Munroe  was  awfully  nice 
about  it,  though  it  is  detestable  to  go  off  in  this  way 
when  she  expected  to  count  on  me.  But  I  don't  often 
feel  such  a  thorough  conviction  that  I  am  doing  the 
best  thing  —  I  know  it,  this  time.  It  is  a  real  sacrifice 
(though  with  compensations),  for  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
leaving  home  all  over  again,  except  that  I  can  have 
half  an  hour  with  my  children  on  my  way  home  from 
work.  The  work  will,  of  course,  be  much,  much  harder 
and  more  concentrated.  The  compensations  are,  in 
the  first  place,  a  salary,  though  just  what  I  don't 
know,  and,  in  the  second  place,  responsibility  ahead 
and  an  opportunity  to  grow  up  with  a  thing  that  is 
growing  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute.  I  won't  take 
time  to-night  to  tell  you  of  the  plan  outlined  for  the 


8o  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

future,  especially  as  it  is  somewhat  vague,  for  I  want 
to  post  this  letter  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  on 
the  chance  that  it  will  catch  this  week's  boat.  The 
bless6s  were  too  nice  about  it,  and  Petit  said  at  first 
that  he  should  demand  to  be  evacuated  at  once,  and 
then,  when  I  said  I  should  visit  them  every  evening, 
he  said  that  in  that  case  he  should  stay  forever.  And 
INIichel  —  well,  it  will  just  kill  me  when  I  do  finally 
take  leave  of  Michel. 

I  shall  stay  on  at  the  Henris*,  so  you  might  address 
mail  there;  though  I  should  always  get  it  at  the  hos- 
pital. I  don't  yet  know  my  new  address.  I  shall  be 
more  directly  under  the  Army,  so  mail  regulations 
will  be  at  least  as  stringent,  I  suppose. 

Next  morning 
I  feel  worse  and  worse  personally  about  this,  but 
equally  sure  it  is  right;  I  am  just  drafted,  that's  all. 

September  19 
Well,  my  dearest  Father,  this  time  I  certainly  have 
got  one  of  my  wishes  —  wherever  I  am  not,  I  surely 
am  in  a  large  institution  where  things  go  with  a  hum 
and  I  work  with  men.  Although  I  am  still  uncertain 
as  to  whether  I  can  do  the  job,  I  like  it  ever  so  much 
so  far.  I  never  should  have  thought  that  in  two  days  I 
could  get  to  regard  machines  as  a  fascinating  subject. 
My,  but  things  move  quickly  here!  A  man  comes  in 
and  applies  for  a  job  as  translator;  Mr.  Skinner  talks 
with  him  for  about  six  minutes,  engages  him,  tele- 
phones to  the  supply  department  for  an  oak  table, 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  81 

several  chairs,  a  file,  baskets,  etc. ;  man  is  given  the 
book  he  is  to  start  on  and  a  temporary  place  in  some 
one  else's  office,  where  he  remains  for  about  half  an 
hour  and  is  then  informed  that  his  office  is  ready.  He 
is  asked  what  kind  of  stenographer  he  needs,  and  she 
is  shortly  found  and  established.  Et  voila!  And  it  is 
that  way  with  everything;  they  are  spreading  out 
about  an  office  every  three  days,  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
and  engage  several  new  office  workers  every  day.  The 
whole  thing  is  like  living  in  an  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 
political  detective  story,  and  is  perfectly  thrilling. 

The  actual  work  is  rather  hair-raising,  too,  but  in  a 
different  way  —  it  is  hard.  In  the  first  place,  I  am 
secretary  to  Major  G.,  who  is  chief  of  the  technical 
division  of  the  production  end  of  aviation,  of  which 
Colonel  B.  is  in  charge.  Production  is  one  of  two  di- 
visions of  aviation,  and  includes  the  choosing  and 
training  of  flyers  as  well  as  the  decision  on  types  of 
machines  and  equipment  —  everything,  in  fact,  ex- 
cept the  actual  work  in  the  field.  Mr.  Skinner  is  the 
Major's  Civil  Aide,  and  he  and  I  sit  in  the  outer  office 
and  guard  the  Major  from  undue  interruption.  All 
the  offices  are  the  most  beautiful  rooms  you  can  im- 
agine, for  they  have  the  whole  of  a  brand-new  apart- 
ment house  evidently  built  for  the  very  rich  • —  even 
to  having  a  bath-tub!  Mr.  Skinner  is  quite  a  wonder, 
I  think.  He  certainly  does  a  good  job  in  his  difficult 
position  of  greasing  wheels  that  make  about  one  hun- 
dred thousand  revolutions  per  minute. 

One  thing  I  do  that  almost  kills  me  is  to  answer  the 
telephone  —  half  the  time  in  French.  There  is  a  lit- 


82  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

tie  switch-board,  consisting  of  only  two  lines,  but  it 
about  finishes  me,  even  so.  One  line  goes  to  the  cen- 
tral and  the  other  to  the  Major,  and  then  you  can 
make  various  different  combinations  of  the  two.  It  is 
awfully  hard  to  hear,  especially  names,  for  they  have 
the  receiver  and  mouthpiece  on  the  two  ends  of  a 
straight  handle  about  six  inches  long,  and  the  mouth- 
piece is  not  bent  round  so  that  it  is  opposite  your 
mouth,  but  is  flat  on,  so  you  speak  right  past  it.  As 
every  one  else's  is  that  way,  too,  you  never  hear  any- 
thing spoken  really  into  the  mouthpiece.  It  may  be 
hygienic  (though  I  am  sure  it  is  not  done  for  that  rea- 
son), but  it  certainly  is  ineffective.  Well,  then  there 
is  Mr.  Skinner's  telephone  which  I  answer  if  he  does 
n't  happen  to  be  on  the  spot,  and  then  there  is  the 
bell  the  Major  rings  if  he  wants  me.  And  as  far  as  I 
can  see,  or  rather  hear,  they  all  have  the  same  bell. 

Of  course,  I  can't  tell  you  any  of  the  actual  things 
that  go  on,  for  even  without  being  told  I  can  see  that 
it  would  be  impossible.  So  I  will  say  nothing  and  be 
on  the  safe  side.  My  hours  are  rather  long,  but  not  so 
long  as  the  men's,  w^ho  never  go  home  before  eleven 
and  often  stay  till  one  or  two.  Mr.  Skinner  says  that 
he  regards  it  as  he  would  getting  shot  —  the  chance 
of  his  being  worn  out,  I  mean;  some  one  else  will  take 
his  place,  and  the  work  has  got  to  be  done  on  the  in- 
stant with  just  as  little  regard  for  health  as  if  he  were 
in  the  trenches.  The  Major  is  a  terrific  worker,  too,  and 
yet  looks  as  fresh  as  a  daisy.  He  is  quite  young,  not 
more  than  thirty-two,  I  should  think,  with  a  vigorous 
profile  and  bright  brown  eyes;  very  quick  and  de- 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  83 

cided,  yet  very  agreeable  and  polite  and  thoughtful 
of  others;  swears  a  good  deal  in  a  casual,  genial  way; 
I  have  n't  yet  seen  a  sign  of  temper;  very  effective. 

To  give  you  my  routine  —  well,  I  can't,  exactly. 
In  the  morning  I  do  odd  jobs  of  typing,  with  inter- 
ruptions every  two  or  three  minutes  of  telephone  or 
people  coming  in.  Then  I  lunch  at  some  patisserie 
(rather  dear,  alas),  and  after  lunch  the  Major  is  apt 
(on  two  days'  experience  I  say  this)  to  give  me  some 
letters,  mostly  to  the  Government  at  Washington 
and  written  in  an  exact  form,  and  then  there  arrive 
certain  young  mechanics  who  give  him  the  benefit  of 
their  ideas  on  the  synchronization  of  machine  guns, 
while  I  try  vainly  to  take  down  the  gist  of  what  they 
say  on  a  subject  and  in  words  I  never  heard  of  before. 
However,  I  feel  much  more  at  home  with  the  subject 
to-day  than  I  did  yesterday  and  believe  I  can  learn 
the  essential  points.  If  I  only  had  time  to  go  in  and 
get  a  book  on  the  principles  of  avions  I  should  be 
happier,  but  everything  at  the  office  is  in  French. 
Then  after  that  little  conference  is  over  I  still  more 
vainly  try  to  make  out  my  shorthand  notes. 

My  delightful  plan  of  spending  an  hour  every 
night  at  the  hospital  has  so  far  gone  to  the  wall,  but  I 
do  go  there  at  eight  for  ten  minutes  every  morning.  I 
suppose  I  shall  have  Sunday  off — though  if  they 
both  work  I  shall  feel  like  an  awful  sneak  —  and  I  can 
go  to  the  hospital  then.  Gone  are  my  days  of  leisure 
—  for  leisure  it  was,  even  when  I  worked  all  day:  I 
crossed  the  garden  a  dozen  times  a  day  and  always 
stopped  to  chat  with  who  and  what-all,  I  went  down 


84  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

to  a  peaceful  tea  about  four,  I  took  a  long  time  off  for 
lunch,  and  the  hardest  work  I  had  to  do  was  copying 
a  few  lists.  But  don't  you  care;  I  am  glad  I  am  in  this 
other,  and  it  will  certainly  sharpen  my  wits. 

To-day  the  Major  was  recommended  for  a  lieuten- 
ant-colonelcy. 

September  21 
By  this  time  it  is  Friday  evening,  and  I  have  been 
at  this  job  four  days.  I  like  it  better  and  better.  The 
second  day  I  did  almost  everything  wrong- — fearfully 
stupid  things  —  and  was  very  discouraged  and  told 
Mr.  Skinner  I  was  n't  geared  high  enough  and  he 
could  send  me  back  to  the  Ambulance  right  then  if  he 
wanted  and  not  waste  any  more  time  on  me.  But  he 
said  if  every  one  in  the  office  was  geared  as  high  as 
the  Major,  nothing  would  go  because  no  one  would 
attend  to  the  little  things  that  kept  the  machine  run- 
ning, and  he  thought  it  would  be  all  right.  Well,  per- 
haps it  will  and  perhaps  it  won't;  I  have  no  idea.  If 
it  does,  I  shall  consider  it  one  of  the  most  thrilling 
things  I  ever  did.  If  it  does  n't,  and  I  were  told  to  go 
to-morrow,  I  should  still  be  very,  very  glad  to  have 
had  these  few  days  in  an  absolutely  new  world.  It 
gets  more  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim-y  every  hour. 

I  invested  in  a  gilt-edged  blank-book  as  a  diary  — 
for  I  hope  to  have  energy  enough  to  write  down 
things  as  they  happen  every  day.  It  would  be  much 
easier  to  do  so  if  I  could  write  them  to  you,  but  I  can't, 
so  I  shall  have  to  find  time  for  both  that  and  letters. 
I  go  to  the  Ambulance  each  morning  at  eight  and 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  85 

find  my  three  particular  old  blesses  waiting  out  on 
the  terrace;  and  then  we  have  a  little  parley  and  I 
leave  messages  with  them  to  be  delivered  everywhere 
over  the  hospital.  This  morning  Gautherot  brought 
forth  a  little  brown  paper  package  and  presented  it  to 
me,  and  it  was  three  sorts  of  cooky-cakes ;  and  Petit 
gave  me  a  most  beautiful  huge  red  and  yellow  apple. 
Some  one  had  brought  them  these  things  and  they 
had  saved  them  for  me  —  was  n't  that  pretty  sweet? 
Petit  said  it  was  for  "peekneek."  I  think  they  think 
that  "picnic"  means  little  extras  in  the  food  line. 

September  25 
I  may  be  said  to  have  fairly  got  my  nose  to  the 
grindstone  this  time,  and  if  for  a  while  my  letters  are 
somewhat  scanty  it  is  because  I  don't  want  it  (the 
nose)  to  be  entirely  ground  ofT.  And  life  is  certainly 
interesting! 

Sunday  (Sundays  will  now  be  the  only  things  to 
tell  of,  because  the  interesting  part  of  the  other 
would  n't  get  by  the  censor)  I  took  out  all  my  winter 
things  and  put  away  summer  ones  and  sewed  a  little. 
Then  I  went  down  street  to  meet  Petit,  Michel,  and 
Gautherot  —  the  former  with  his  cardboard  and 
plaster  pilon,  which  is  the  thing  they  use  first  for  an 
artificial  leg,  and  the  other  two  on  crutches  —  and  we 
went  across  the  Avenue  de  Neuilly  to  a  certain  little 
restaurant  where  we  were  joined  by  Dr.  Gano,  in  his 
new  American  uniform,  and  there,  at  a  table  taking 
up  the  whole  sidewalk,  we  had  a  long  and  very  good 
dejeuner  —  a  farewell  party,  for  they  have  all  three 


86  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

been  evacuated  and  may  go  any  minute.  We  had  a 
great  time.  After  lunch  we  hobbled  over  to  the  Bois, 
meaning  to  go  to  the  cinema  (which  they  chose  in 
preference  to  a  drive),  but  of  course  the  electricity 
did  n't  march  just  that  minute;  so  we  looked  at  the 
very  inferior  zoo  and  then  wandered  along  to  an  out- 
door concert. 

After  a  bit  Dr.  Gano  and  I  left  them,  and  he  took 
me  to  the  Marche  aux  Puces,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
entertaining  things  I  have  seen  yet.  In  the  first  place, 
you  go  to  the  Porte  de  Clignancourt,  which  is  the 
other  end  of  nowhere.  There  you  find  a  huge  waste, 
like  the  Fens,  only  perfectly  barren;  and  laid  out  on 
newspapers  or  cloth,  on  the  ground,  every  imaginable 
kind  of  old  thing  —  clothes,  shoes,  china,  pictures, 
books,  carved  Chinese  panels  worth  eight  hundred 
francs,  buttons,  nails,  odd  lengths  of  hose,  insides  of 
clocks,  brass  bells,  candlesticks,  etc..  Paisley  shawls, 
false  hair,  beds,  stoves,  canaries  —  there  really  is  al- 
most nothing  that  has  not  its  representative  there. 
It  extends  over  a  space  about  two  blocks  long  by  half 
a  block  wide,  and  it  is  thronged  with  people  who  pore 
over  these  things.  And  none  pored  harder  than  I.  I 
bought  a  brass  bell  for  the  Henris,  for  two  francs;  a 
silver  or  nickel  or  pewter  belt  buckle  for  one  franc, 
and  an  American  one  cent  piece  of  1857,  with  a  dove 
on  it  —  remember  it?  The  price  WcLs  two  cents,  but 
the  man  presented  it  to  the  Doctor  because  of  his 
uniform  —  it  really  was  too  delightful.  If  we  had  n't 
been  going  out  to  dinner  I  should  have  bought  some 
china.  Father  would  dote  on  it,  and  would  doubtless 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  87 

buy  lots  of  nails,  pipe  joints,  bits  of  leather  for  wash- 
ers, etc.  You  always  felt  that  you  might  come  on  the 
prize  of  generations. 

October  3 
To-day  is  Father's  birthday  and  I  send  him  kisses 
and  hugs  and  wishes  for  a  long,  long  life  after  I  have 
come  home! 

It  is  so  late  and  I  am  so  tired  and  my  eyes  are  so 
tired  that  I  am  going  to  cut  you  very  short.  The 
Major  came  in  this  afternoon  at  quarter-past  five, 
and  after  having  eaten  in  company  with  me  a  most 
beautiful  and  delicious  apple,  he  settled  down  and 
dictated  one  letter  perfectly  steadily  till  half-past 
seven,  —  and  all  about  monocoques  and  sur  com- 
prim6s  and  speed  scouts  and  side-slips,  nose  dives, 
tachimometers,  inclinometers,  etc.  Such  jolly  dicta- 
tion !  I  take  it  very  badly  because  I  can't  seem  to  do 
it,  as  one  ought,  purely  by  sound.  I  repeat  it  all,  and 
think  of  other  ways  he  might  have  put  it  better,  and 
say  "x "  to  myself  when  he  says  "unknown  quantity  " 
and  do  all  kinds  of  stupid  things  like  that.  He  never 
does.  I  never  saw  such  a  single-minded  man.  He  does 
fifty  million  different  things  in  the  day,  but  he  does 
just  one  of  them  at  a  time  and  during  that  time  —  be 
it  for  five  minutes  or  an  hour  —  nothing  else  exists 
for  him.  He  tears  off  the  greatest  amount  of  work 
ever  imagined.  It  turns  out  he  is  only  twenty-six 
years  old ! 

If  I  had  written  to  you  yesterday  —  and  I  only 
did  n't  because  I  did  n't  think  I  could  stand  it  —  I 


88  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

should  have  told  you  that  I  was  getting  my  first  real 
experience  of  the  hardships  of  war  —  that  I  had  been 
pulled  out  of  a  nice,  easy,  very  delightful  job  that  I 
could  do  well,  and  put  into  a  job  that  was  far  beyond 
me,  of  which  I  was  making  a  complete  failure.  I  felt 
that  I  was  not  coming  at  all  up  to  their  expectations, 
for  I  am  never  "on"  to  any  of  the  things  that  go  on 
round  me,  and  I  never  start  new  schemes  for  them, 
or  anything.  But  it  turns  out  that  the  Major  is  satis- 
fied, so  that  is  all  right.  The  work  continues  to  be 
enormously  interesting  and  I  am  learning  lots  of 
things,  general  and  particular.  I  feel  every  morning 
when  I  set  forth  as  if  I  personally  were  going  to  lick 
the  Germans,  and  I  can  tell  you  it's  a  good  feeling. 
Well,  the  way  I  must  lick  them  to-morrow  is  by  get- 
ting off  that  two-hour  letter  to  the  Chief  Signal  Ofift- 
cer,  on  this  boat,  and  if  I  am  to  do  that  I  must  go  to 
bed. 

October  6 
It  is  very  cold  and  rainy  to-day  and  as  the  barome- 
ter was  rising  I  brought  no  umbrella;  so  I  had  to  eat 
my  couple  of  sandwiches  and  piece  of  chocolate  in- 
doors and  now  have  a  few  minutes  to  write  to  you. 

Last  Sunday  I  had  a  delightful  visit  to  my  three 
dearest  blesses  who  have  been  evacuated  to  an  auxil- 
iary hospital  outside  of  Paris.  You  go  in  the  car  for 
about  half  an  hour,  to  Malmaison,  and  then  walk  for 
about  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  up  hill,  through  the 
beautiful  Pare  of  Malmaison,  and  finally  come  to  a 
large  mansion  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  surrounded  by 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  89 

beautiful  gardens  and  the  greenest  of  green  lawns, 
and  lovely  trees.  There  is  a  marvellous  view,  through 
gaps  in  the  trees,  across  the  Seine  Valley  and  other 
valleys,  at  distant  hills,  and  there  is  a  sense  of  peace 
and  quiet  there  which  is  not  to  be  excelled  —  just 
the  place  for  a  poor  little  war-worn  blesse  to  recover 
himself  and  bask  and  expand  in  the  sun  and  the 
breadth  of  view.  But,  alas,  alas,  things  are  never 
what  they  seem,  and  I  found  a  very  disconsolate 
little  bless6  who  said  that  the  place  was  all  very  well 
au  point  de  vue  de  salubrite,  but  so  far  from  the 
world  and  the  bistro.  They  think  less  than  nothing 
of  it  and  would  far  rather  be  in  some  little  hovel  in 
Paris.  The  other  two  blesses  had  gone  all  the  weary 
way  down  the  hill  on  their  crutches,  and  in  to  Neu- 
illy,  to  visit  the  Ambulance,  and  this  child  had  to 
stay  at  home  because  he  had  raised  blisters  under  his 
arms  with  his  crutches.  He  was  sitting  in  a  large,  airy 
room  which  he  shares  with  only  two  other  men,  look- 
ing like  three  days  of  rain  and  studying  English.  So 
first  we  had  an  English  lesson  and  then  he  took  me  on 
a  tour  of  the  domaine.  Such  tomatoes !  I  wished  my 
gardening  family  could  see  them.  The  flower  garden 
was  very  large  and  filled  to  the  Queen's  taste  — 
much  more  to  the  Queen's  taste  than  to  mine,  in 
fact,  for  it  was  of  the  very  formal,  bedded-out  vari- 
ety; but  still,  with  the  well-kept  lawns  and  trees  it 
made  a  very  good  whole.  I  almost  turned  Catholic  in 
order  to  stay  there;  oh,  no,  I  remember  aftenvards 
finding  out  that  it  was  no  longer  a  convent,  but  had 
been  bought  by  the  owner  of  one  of  the  very  large 


90  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

department  stores  here  as  a  place  where  his  tired  or 
old  emplo\'6s  can  go  and  spend  as  long  as  they  like 
for  an  infinitesimal  sum ;  and  there  is  another  house  a 
little  farther  down  the  hill  where  they  take  care  of 
the  sickly  children  of  his  employes.  I  should  love  to 
go  out  to  this  infant  asylum  and  take  care  of  them. 

October  8 
Breakfast  time.  There  is  a  most  gorgeous  great 
airplane  performing  for  my  express  benefit  —  it  ap- 
pears out  of  the  clouds,  comes  straight  for  me,  circles 
round  over  my  very  yard,  and  flies  away  again,  mak- 
ing its  other  circle  behind  great  masses  of  cloud.  I 
think  it  is  a  hydroplane.  Here  it  comes  again,  for 
about  the  sixth  time. 

It  is  cold  to-day,  but  the  clouds  are  lovely  —  pur- 
ple and  goldy.  I  do  enjoy  to  the  utmost  taking  my 
breakfast  right  in  this  big  French  window.  The  sky 
almost  always  has  something  fine  to  offer,  and  it  is 
such  a  peaceful,  leisurely  way  of  beginning  the  day  — 
leisurely  even  on  days  when  I  don't  get  out  of  bed  till 
quarter  of  seven  and  take  the  half-past  seven  car. 

October  lO 
Wednesday  evening  —  already  after  ten.  I  wish 
Thursday  was  n't  the  day  for  posting  letters,  for  if  I 
write  Sunday  the  letter  is  so  old  by  the  time  it 
reaches  you,  and  if  I  wait  till  Wednesday  there's 
never  any  time.  To-day,  for  instance,  I  began  work 
—  half  an  hour  from  here  —  at  eight  in  the  morning 
and  stayed  till  six,  went  to  the  dressmaker's  (I  am 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  91 

having  my  last  year's  blue  jacket  made  into  a  waist 
to  wear  with  the  same  skirt),  another  half-hour  away, 
returned  for  dinner,  and  afterwards  went  to  the 
Lauths',  where  one  of  Madame  Lauth's  innumerable 
brothers  or  brothers-in-law  just  back  from  Flanders 
was  giving  an  account  of  their  doings  there  —  al- 
most all  of  which  I  missed.  I  saw,  however,  his  very 
interesting  pictures  of  captured  German  balloons  and 
airplanes,  of  Guynemer,  the  French  aviator,  —  the 
"ace  of  aces,"  —  of  the  guns  and  trains  painted  k  la 
Mr.  Thayer,  and  of  various  towns  in  Flanders.  I  also 
saw  on  a  very  large-scale  map  what  the  French  and 
English  have  done  since  July  30,  and,  oh,  it  looks  so 
small!  But  its  importance  is  evidently  not  in  propor- 
tion to  its  size. 

At  noon  to-day  "  a  soldier"  was  announced  for  me, 
and  I  went  down  and  there  was  Petit,  all  smiles,  come 
to  dejeuner  with  me.  He  had  just  received  permission 
for  ten  days,  and  was  starting  that  very  night  to  visit 
his  family  down  beyond  Lyons.  His  father  and  mother 
have  been  once  to  see  him  at  the  hospital,  but  he 
has  n't  seen  his  two  sisters  and  nephews,  or  his 
brother-in-law  whom  he  adores,  or  been  home  for 
eleven  months.  He  was  all  excitement.  He  says  they 
will  be  just  making  the  wine.  I  lent  him  my  kodak 
and  two  films  to  take  pictures  of  all  the  family  and 
the  wine-making.  They  simply  love  snap-shots: 
Petit's  entire  luggage  consisted  in  his  pocket-book, 
with  his  permission  papers  and  a  canvas  bag  with 
photographs  of  different  people  at  the  hospital.  So 
we  had  d6jeuner  together  at  a  little  cafe.  I  simply  love 


92  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

"going  out"  with  them,  for  they  have  such  wonder- 
ful manners  and  always  take  charge  of  choosing  the 
table  and  getting  a  waiter  and  ordering  (whatever  I 
have  selected),  and  hurrying  the  waiter  up,  etc.  This 
time  the  dejeuner  was  on  me,  and  then  Petit  ordered 
cafe  for  us  as  his  treat. 

Last  Sunday  I  went  out  to  see  the  three  of  them 
again,  at  Malmaison,  and  as  it  was  a  villainous,  chilly, 
on-the-verge-of-rainy  day  they  met  me  at  the  car  and 
conducted  me  to  a  little  bistro,  where  we  had  the 
whole  place  to  ourselves,  and  treated  me  to  drinks. 
First  we  had  porto  —  doux  for  Mademoiselle  and 
less  so  for  themselves.  I  suggested  eating  at  the  same 
time  the  sandwiches  I  had  brought  to  picnic  on,  but 
they  were  horrified  and  said  that  one  never  ate  and 
drank  porto  at  the  same  time.  So,  very  slowly  and 
with  much  conversation,  we  consumed  our  tiny  little 
glasses  of  thick  yellow  stuff.  I  thought  they  had  en- 
tirely scorned  the  sandwiches  and  was  just  going  to 
put  them  back  into  my  bag  when  they  started  to  open 
them.  Then  it  appeared  (I  shall  never  learn  these 
things  right)  that  one  could  n't  eat  sandwiches  with- 
out drinking;  so  we  had  big  glasses,  of  Bordeaux  this 
time,  and  lots  of  healths  and  the  four  of  us  gobbled  up 
twenty  sandwiches  of  pate  de  foie  gras  and  marmalade 
(not  mixed). 

I  can  hardly  wait  for  your  first  letter  after  knowing 
I  've  changed.  I  shan't  feel  in  communication  till  then. 

I  enclose  this  carbon  of  my  letter  to  Mrs.  Hitch- 
cock, in  case  I  say  anything  in  it  I  have  n't  said  to 
you  fifty  times  before: 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  93 

Mother  has  told  me  the  delightful  news  that  you  have 
given  me  twenty-five  dollars  for  a  blesse.  There  are  so 
many  things  to  do  for  them !  I  have  decided  to  put  this 
twenty-five  into  the  price  of  a  first-class  artificial  leg  for 
one  of  my  particular  friends  called  "Petit."  He  is  the  most 
entertaining  and  delightful  person  —  very  small,  very 
thin,  with  one  leg  amputated  and  an  arm  that  looks  un- 
believable in  the  X-ray,  it  is  so  broken  and  twisted,  a 
crooked  nose  (not  as  a  result  of  the  war),  and  a  tilt  to  his 
head  that  makes  him  look  just  like  a  bird,  and  the  greatest 
sense  of  humor.  He  is  not  one  of  those  who  are  almost 
imperturbably  good-humored  and  content,  but  has  great 
ups  and  downs;  but  when  he  is  up,  there  is  no  one  more 
active  and  amusing.  He  goes  hopping  round  the  ward  on 
his  one  leg,  scorning  a  cane  (he  cannot  use  crutches  on 
account  of  his  bad  arm)  and  going  about  twice  as  fast  as 
the  men  who  have  two  legs.  It  is  really  quite  remarkable 
to  see  him  go,  for  usually  the  amput^s  are  so  afraid  of 
falling  that  they  go  very  slowly  even  with  crutches.  He 
was  a  coiffeur  by  trade,  and  what  he  will  do  later  I  don't 
know,  for  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time,  if  the  time  ever 
comes,  before  he  can  use  his  arm.  Yesterday  he  was  an- 
nounced for  me  downstairs  at  the  Aviation,  where  I  am 
now,  and  had  come  all  the  way  on  foot  from  the  Etoile 
(which  would  take  me  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  walking 
fast)  to  tell  me  that  he  had  been  granted  a  leave  of  ten 
days  and  was  going  down  to  visit  his  family  near  Lyons.  It 
is  eleven  months  since  he  has  been  home,  and  he  was  as 
excited  as  possible.  Whenever  we  meet  we  always  talk 
of  the  wonderful  leg  he  is  going  to  have  when  he  is  ready 
for  it,  and  I  really  think  it  is  the  thing  he  looks  forward  to 
more  than  anything.  He  always  assures  me  that  on  the 
day  when  we  go  to  get  it  we  will  go  to  a  restaurant 
and  have  the  very  best  dejeuner  we  can  find  —  and  I  al- 
ways agree  that  that  will  be  the  big  party  of  the  year. 


94  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

October  i8 
I  have  had  rather  a  social  week.  I  have  taken  lunch 
in  company  with  Mr.  Fairbanks  a  number  of  times, 
and  he  is  very  nice  and  entertaining.  Then  I  went  to 
supper  with  Helen  and  Edith  and  Catharine  McL. 
the  night  before  they  left  for  a  French  hospital  at  the 
front  —  as  near  the  front  as  a  woman  can  get  —  be- 
tween Soissons  and  Rheims.  They  had  only  just  got 
their  orders  the  day  before  and  were  leaving  the  next 
morning  at  six,  so  they  were  highly  excited.  They  all 
seemed  in  fine  form.  They  will  have  the  most  thrilling 
experience  in  the  world,  now.  I  saw  yesterday  one  of 
the  auxiliaries  at  the  Ambulance  who  is  about  to 
leave  to  join  a  friend  (whom  I  used  to  know  at  the 
Ambulance)  at  a  French  hospital  near  Verdun.  This 
other  girl  is  in  the  operating-room  where,  during  this 
attack,  she  has  been  on  duty  with  the  shortest  possi- 
ble intervals  for  food  twenty-four  hours  at  a  time. 
She  sleeps  in  a  little  tin  hut  alone  and  is  anxious  to 
have  her  friend  arrive,  for  she  finds  the  hut  a  little 
lonely  when  the  shrapnel  begins  to  patter  on  the  roof! 
One  nice  thing  about  this  job  is  that  I  have  to  cross 
the  Champs  Elys6es,  about  midway  between  Etoile 
and  Concorde,  every  morning,  when  the  sun  (if  any) 
shines  directly  on  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  and  the 
chestnut  trees  are  all  russet-colored  and  the  avenues 
are  full  of  blueness  —  it  really  is  worth  while.  From 
our  balcony  we  get  a  delightful  view,  toward  Mont- 
martre  on  one  hand  and  the  EifTel  Tower  on  the 
other.  The  beauty  of  Paris  is  more  and  more  striking. 
But  getting  home  in  the  evening  —  by  which  I  only 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  95 

mean  seven  o'clock  —  is  less  charming;  either  I  have 
to  go  in  the  Metro  and  be  absolutely  jammed  to  jelly 
in  a  hot,  smelly  crowd,  and  then  quite  a  little  walk  on 
the  other  end,  or  else  I  have  to  go  over  to  the  surface 
line,  wait  fifteen  minutes  or  more,  and  then  have  two 
or  three  cars  (at  long  intervals)  go  by,  too  crowded  to 
take  any  one  on.  I  felt  so  mad  last  night,  after  strain- 
ing every  nerve  to  get  on  three  different  cars  and  fail- 
ing, that  I  almost  decided  the  Metro  was  better. 

The  job  continues  to  be  most  interesting  and  in- 
spiriting. There  are  hundreds  of  people  in  and  out  of 
the  ofhce  all  the  time,  French  and  English  and  Ameri- 
cans, and  something  doing  every  second.  And  the 
Major  is  still  a  joy  to  work  for.  I  never  saw  such  in- 
stantly focusable  concentration  as  he  has.  Leaving  the 
outer  office,  where  the  telephone  is  ringing  and  every- 
body is  wanting  everything,  and  going  in  to  him  to 
take  dictation  is  just  like  finding  the  still  heart  of  the 
storm;  you  realize  that  everything  is  whirling  and 
raging  with  great  force,  and  yet  it  is  centralized  and 
unified  so,  there,  that  —  well,  I  break  down  on  words 
at  that  point  —  do  it  for  yourself. 

I  enclose  a  letter  from  Petit's  father  —  I  told  you 
Petit  had  just  gone  home  on  convalescence  for  a  few 
days.  He  evidently  believes  in  phonetic  spelling. 

Afa  chhe  demoiselle :  Vcuillez  je  vous  prie  m'excusez  de 
la  liberty  que  je  prend  pour  vous  trasser  ses  quelqucs  ligne, 
mes  avan  tous  laissez  moi  vous  dire  que  notre  cher  fils 
cherie  vien  d'arrivd  chez  nous  pour  nous  rendre  visite,  sait 
se  que  nous  a  donne  la  joie  et  la  gaite,  de  le  voir  si  bien 
remis  aussi  c'est  a  son  non  que  je  vien  vous  remercier  de 
tous  les  bon  soin  apporter  par  vous  ct  les  bon  service  que 


96  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

vous  lui  avals  rendue.  Aussi,  Mademoiselle,  je  vien  vous 
remercier  beaucoup  de  tous  se  que  vous  avals  fait  pour 
notre  cher  fils  tant  aimer;  je  ne  saurais  trop  quoi  faire  pour 
vous  rendre  le  bien  que  vous  lui  avais  prodigue.  Mainte- 
nant  Mademoiselle  vous  pouvez  croire  que  nous  serions 
heureux  si  un  jour  vous  6tiez  de  passages  a  Loriol  de  bien 
vouloir  vous  arrets  pour  nous  donner  un  bonjour,  sa  nous 
ferais  grands  plaisir  de  faire  votre  connaissance  et  vous 
rejevoir  dans  les  conditions  qui  vous  et  du,  vous  meriter 
tante  notre  attention,  tante  notre  estime.  Croiyer,  chere 
demoiselle,  que  moi  et  ma  femme  nous  vous  remercion 
beaucoup  et  notre  fils  nous  prie  de  bien  vous  remerciez  a 
son  tour  et  vous  donne  un  bonjour  et  une  bonne  poign6e 
de  main  san  nous  oubliez.  Mercie  encore  une  fois,  chere 
mademoiselle;  au  plaisir  de  vous  voir  un  jours,  recevez 
toutes  nos  amitiez.  Vos  ami  pour  la  vie. 

Monsieur  et  Madame  Reynier,  k  Loriol,  Dr6me. 

Men  fils  vous  remercie  beaucoup  de  son  petit  paquet 
aue  vous  avez  bien  voulue  lui  donner.  A  sa  grande  sur- 
prises lorsquil  a  ouvert  de  lui  trouv6  le  contenue  de 
lO  f .  Aussi  mille  fois  mercie. 


Sunday,  October  28 
Father's  lovely  fat  letter  of  September  26  reached 
me  two  days  ago,  with  several  others.  None  from 
Mother  since  one  of  September  20.  Yes,  indeed,  I 
have  received  your  clippings  from  Uncle  Joe's  calen- 
dar and  your  post-cards;  I  am  always  in  so  much  of  a 
hurry  when  I  write  that  I  forget  to  say  so.  The  picture 
of  Radcliffe  adorns  my  wall  and  the  post-card  of  the 
West  Boston  Bridge  I  show  to  all  Boston  people  to 
make  them  homesick.  I  have  n't  tried  it  out  on  Skin- 
ner or  Fairbanks,  but  I  will.  The  sugar  and  grape- 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  97 

nuts  I  have  not  received.  The  newspaper  is  fine  when 
it  comes,  which  it  does  more  or  less  irregularly ;  I  cut 
out  two  good  pictures  and  stuck  them  up:  one  of 
Lloyd  George,  Sir  Douglas  Haig,  and  Papa  J  off  re; 
the  other  of  Cousin  Lawrence  and  Cousin  Henry. 
How  I  wish  I  could  have  been  at  home  on  Mother's 
birthday  —  or  indeed  on  any  other  day !  While  I  am 
not  homesick,  I  should  more  and  more  enjoy  a  few 
days  at  home.  However  — 

Every  one  in  the  office  has  had  terrific  colds  ex- 
cept me.  I  have  an  awful  feeling  that  one  is  coming  on 
now,  though.  It  is  n't  that  it  is  awfully  cold,  but  the 
constant  fog,  with  intervals  of  rain  and  about  five 
minutes  of  dazzling  sunlight  every  two  days,  is  very 
penetrating. 

This  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Ambulance  and  had 
hardly  gone  Into  Ward  69  when  a  man  appeared  with 
a  letter  in  Louisa's  handwriting,  and  behold  Filleul 
Alfred!  She  has  chosen  well,  I  should  say;  he  seems 
like  a  particularly  nice  man  —  very  sympatica,  very 
cheerful,  interesting,  well-mannered,  altogether  very 
satisfactory.  I  could  not  see  him  long  then,  but  gave 
him  two  bunches  of  cigarettes  which  I  happened  to 
have  in  my  muff  and  invited  him  to  d6jeuner  with  me 
the  next  time  he  has  a  Sunday  off  —  in  about  three 
weeks.  His  present  address  is  104  Rue  Muliers,  Comp. 
C.B.P.,  Ivry,  Seine.  He  has  been  transferred  and  is 
now  on  a  boat,  carrying  munitions  and  other  insects 
up  and  down  the  river.  He  appears  to  be  both  boat- 
man and  carpenter  —  or  joiner,  rather  —  by  trade. 
He  wants  to  be  transferred  again  somewhere  where 


98  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

he  does  only  carpentry  and  no  boating,  though  not 
because  the  river  work  is  cold  in  winter,  which  I 
should  think  would  be  a  first  consideration.  He  has 
been  three  years  in  the  trenches  and  never  received  a 
scratch.  His  company  has  been  emptied  and  filled  and 
emptied  and  filled  to  the  extent  of  three  thousand 
men,  of  whom  only  he  and  one  other  remain  of  the 
original  set.  Ill-expressed,  but  you  see  what  I  mean. 
He  received  a  citation  quite  recently  of  which  he  is 
going  to  send  a  copy  to  Louisa,  and  he  is  evidently  a 
first-class  man.  Was  n't  it  funny  that  he  should  hap- 
pen into  the  ward  during  the  very  ten  minutes  I  was 
there?  I  was  so  glad. 

I  lunched  to-day  with  the  Janets  and  had  a  good 
time.  The  daughters  are  gentle,  intelligent,  and  genu- 
ine. Beside  them  there  was  a  boy,  a  cousin,  and  two 
girls  —  one  an  English  girl  who  has  lived  twelve  years 
in  France  and  is  a  great  friend  of  Helene  Janet's. 
To-morrow  she  is  going  to  Aviation  to  apply  for  a 
place:  wouldn't  it  be  funny  if  she  came  into  our 
office?  I  hope  she  will.  We  take  on  a  new  stenogra- 
pher about  once  a  day,  it  seems  to  me.  She  is  as  bright 
as  a  button  and  fearfully  well  read;  particularly  at- 
tractive. The  other  girl  was  a  doctor  —  a  surgeon! 
Also  very  agreeable.  We  had  quite  a  chat  about 
wooden  legs.  Dr.  Janet  was  lively  to  a  degree.  Both 
he  and  Mrs.  Janet  loved  Boston  and  he  says  he  will 
go  back  with  me  after  the  war.  He  was  genial  and 
spicy.  The  table  conversation  was  such  fun  and  so  in- 
teresting! The  English  girl  had  much  to  contribute; 
her  father  is  a  newspaper  man,  writing  up  foreign 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  99 

affairs  for  some  English  paper,  and  she  knows  very- 
much  what  is  going  on.  Dr.  Janet  sends  Father  his 
"compliments." 

Saturday  Petit  came  in  and  we  went  in  town  for 
lunch  and  to  have  him  measured  for  his  new  leg.  He 
is  to  try  it  on  Thursday.  At  d6jeuner  a  lady  next 
Petit  began  to  talk  to  him  and  told  us  all  about  her 
son,  who  had  been  killed.  Poor  thing;  she  wept  more 
or  less  and  said  how  glad  she  would  have  been  to  have 
him  lose  a  leg  and  an  arm  like  Petit  if  only  he  had 
come  back  alive,  and  how  he  had  felt  the  same  way; 
she  would  have  worked  her  fingers  off  to  support  him. 
She  was  a  widow  and  had  no  other  children.  Petit  was 
awfully  nice  to  her;  he  really  is  a  most  understanding 
soul. 

Saturday  evening  I  went  to  the  Lauths'  to  dinner 
and  that  was  very  nice,  indeed.  They  are  a  homelike 
family  and  their  conversation  is  interesting.  One  of 
their  younger  pensionnaires  is  studying  the  piano  and 
practises  five  hours  a  day;  he  has  also  a  marvellously 
clear  and  full  voice  and  sang  Handel's  Largo  with 
violin,  piano,  and  'cello  accompaniment,  like  an 
angel.  They  played  a  trio  by  Beethoven  and  some- 
thing heavenly  by  Mendelssohn. 

October  31 
You  seem  to  have  such  a  vague  idea  of  what  I  am 
doing  and  yet  I  don't  see  how  I  could  be  much  more 
explicit.  I  rejoice  to  say  I  have  been  relieved  of  the 
telephone.  Though  I  have  done  it  once  already,  I  am 
sure,  I  will  again  give  you  my  day.  Arrive  at  about 


100  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

eight;  open  the  windows;  try  to  make  the  Major's 
desk  look  a  little  more  aesthetic;  sharpen  many  pen- 
cils; if  Mr.  Skinner  isn't  there,  take  papers  from 
"out"  basket  and  sort  them,  giving  practically  every- 
thing to  mail  clerk;  and  start  on  letter-writing  if  I 
have  any  dictation  in  my  notebook.  If  I  have  none,  I 
get  a  folder  of  letters  from  the  file  room  and  try  to  in- 
dex them,  which  is  awfully  hard.  They  are  trying  to 
get  the  files  into  shape  so  that  we  can  really  find  pa- 
pers on  the  dot.  There  are  millions  of  papers  that  may 
be  urgently  needed  at  a  moment's  notice  and  may 
be  demanded  under  a  million  different  guises.  It  is 
really  a  job.  I  wish  you  would  have  the  Library  Bu- 
reau send  me  their  pamphlets  on  filing  —  especially 
on  the  "L.  B.  Automatic  Index." 

Well,  then  probably  I  am  called  in  to  the  Major 
for  dictation,  and  sit  there  watching  the  blue  curling 
smoke  of  his  pipe  in  the  sunlight  and  taking  his  let- 
ters. Perhaps  he  will  have  other  technical  people 
there,  on  wireless  or  photography  or  meteorology  or 
instruction,  and  they  will  discuss  the  types  and  quan- 
tities of  the  various  instruments  and  equipment 
needed,  dictating  a  paragraph  or  two  on  each  point 
as  it  is  decided.  And  the  smoke  of  both  their  pipes 
goes  twisting  and  turning  bluely  up  through  the  sun- 
light. I  am  so  glad  I  enjoy  smoke;  it  is  a  real  joy  to 
watch;  one  woman  left  because  she  said  one  of  the 
men  had  "insulted"  her  —  he  had  smoked  in  the 
very  large  room  where  she  worked.  Do  you  know,  by 
the  way,  I  am  going  to  make  a  strenuous  effort  to 
learn  to  smoke  without  making  faces  of  distaste  or 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  loi 

looking  as  if  I  thought  I  were  going  to  burn  my  fin- 
gers. I  literally  have  n't  been  anywhere  where  all  the 
women,  French  or  American,  don't  smoke  —  and 
when  I  went  to  the  Janets'  and  Madame  and  the 
girls  and  their  guests  all  did,  I  really  decided  I  'd  have 
to  learn  —  it  seems  so  curt  and  unsympathetic  to  re- 
fuse to  do  what  every  one  else  is  doing  with  enjoy- 
ment. But  I  cannot  imagine  that  I  shall  ever  like  it. 
To  return  to  my  routine  —  that  goes  on  off  and  on 
all  day  —  dictation  and  writing,  with  some  indexing, 
and  asking  every  man  who  comes  to  the  ofhce  what 
his  name  and  address  is,  interspersed,  of  course,  with 
snatches  of  conversation.  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  make  it 
sound  very  interesting,  but  it  is  —  just  keeping  up 
with  what  goes  on  in  the  livest  department  of  the 
most  up-to-date  and  important  branch  of  the  Army 
is  thrilling. 

Monday  I  dined  with  Bronson  and  a  doctor  and 
wife,  his  friends,  at  a  very  old  restaurant  with  mar- 
vellous food,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river.  After  dinner 
we  went  back  to  these  people's  apartment  and  sat 
round  the  fire  in  one  of  the  prettiest  rooms  I  ever 
saw,  and  Bronson  told  thrilling  tales  of  battle,  mur- 
der, and  sudden  death  from  the  British  point  of  view. 
I  thought  he  seemed  in  very  good  form.  It  certainly 
was  good  to  see  him,  only  I  wanted  the  time  to  be 
longer.  He  looks  particularly  well  carrying  a  cane  — 
which  is  obligatory  for  English  officers  and  forbidden 
for  Americans.  There  seem  to  be  all  kinds  of  rules  for 
the  appearance  and  behavior  of  English  officers;  the 
French  certainly  do  exactly  as  they  jolly  well  please. 


102  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

It  is  raining  now  and  I  suppose  will  to-morrow. 
But  when  the  weather  is  fine,  or  semi-fine,  the  great 
avenues  with  the  blue,  hazy  distance  and  the  bronzy 
chestnut  trees  against  the  bluey  sky  (it  all  is  "y"ish 
—  not  clear-cut)  are  wonderful,  wonderful.  But  I 
have  seen  no  bright-colored  leaves,  though  I  believe 
there  are  some  good  dark  reds  along  the  river,  out  of 
town. 

To-day  I  lunched  with  Mr.  Fairbanks,  and  Erica 
came  round  at  seven  to  go  out  to  dinner  with  me,  only 
INIr.  Skinner  invited  us  both  to  go  with  him.  So  for 
the  second  time  this  week  I  went  to  a  very  chic  res- 
taurant and  had  wonderful  food,  served  by  the  owner 
of  the  restaurant  himself — "Joseph"  —  who  told 
us  beforehand  how  unusually  delicious  certain  things 
would  be  and  they  were.  At  half-past  nine  we  were, 
according  to  law,  turned  out  and  then  Erica  and  I 
sat  in  the  rain,  without  umbrellas,  on  a  bench  under 
the  trees  of  the  Champs  Elysees  for  a  while.  Now  I 
am  writing  to  you  and  I  don't  dare  look  at  my  watch, 
but  I  will  —  six  minutes  of  one.  I  had  no  idea  it  was 
so  late  and  am  not  in  the  least  sleepy  —  cofTee  again. 

November  9 
Don't  be  afraid  I  will  give  away  any  State  secrets, 
for  in  the  first  place  I  have  no  desire  to  inform  the 
Hun,  and  in  the  second  place  almost  all  my  letters 
will  come  censored. 

We  have  had  some  hectic  days  in  the  office  lately, 
what  with  new  officers  dumped  on  us,  early  morning 
and  unannounced  inspection  tours  by  Pershing  (who 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  103 

left  death  and  destruction  in  our  unmilitary  milieu), 
and  specially  bad  weather.  Did  I  tell  you  I  no  longer 
have  to  struggle  with  the  telephone?  It  is  a  perfect 
blessing,  for  the  telephone  system  is  worse  than  hope- 
less and  the  French  telephone  girl  a  perfect  idiot 
whose  word  I  don't  trust  for  a  minute  and  who  an- 
swers back  in  the  most  insufferable  fashion ;  I  want  to 
throw  bricks  every  time  I  have  to  use  the  appareil. 

I  am  still  keen  on  the  job,  though  I  am  so  slow  I 
have  to  give  myself  extra  long  hours.  How  I  wish  I 
could  tell  you  some  of  the  things  that  go  on  through 
this  office! 

What  did  I  do  last  week?  Lunched  with  Petit  and 
Michel  once,  and  had  the  following  from  Gautherot: 

Dear  Miss  Putnam : 

Le  secretaire  de  I'association  des  trois  bequillards  vient 
d'abord  vous  adressez  les  meilleures  amities  de  I'equippe, 
tout  en  rcgrettant  bien  de  n'avoir  pu  accompagner,  di- 
manche,  mes  deux  camerades,  mais  defense  de  marcher  et 
cette  defense  n'est  pas  encore  levee;  mais  si  cela  dure  trop, 
je  crois  que  je  passerai  outre  aux  ordres,  et  sortirai  quand 
meme. 

Le  Petit  a  6t6  essaye  sa  jambe  lundi,  et  il  espere  I'avoir 
bientot.  II  est  tellement  heureux  de  I'avoir  que  je  crois  que 
ce  jour-la  il  est  capable  de  faire  le  saut  perilleux,  chose  dont 
vous  pouvez  vous  rejouir  et  etre  fiere,  car  il  sera  grace  a 
vous  que  le  Petit  pourra  marcher.  II  est  vrai  que  vous  etes 
si  bonne  et  si  devouee  pour  ceux  qui  ont  donne  leur  sang 
pour  la  cause  de  I'humanit^,  qu'il  ne  faut  pas  s'etonner 
d'une  chose  qui  k  vous  semble  toute  naturelle.  Vous  m'avez 
dit  un  jour,  si  vous  vous  souvenez,  que  nous  etions  une 
grande  race;  eh  bien  a  mon  tour  je  vous  dis,  ce  que  vous 
faites  pour  mon  camerade  est  grand.  Je  trouve  que  le  geste 


104  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

de  remplacer  un  membre  vaut  la  peine  d'etre  admir6.  Vous 
pouvez  me  croire,  c'est  un  blesse  qui  s'y  connait  aux  beaux 
gestes,  qui  ose  vous  le  dire. 

Je  vous  enverrai  un  mot  pour  vous  dire  nos  intentions 
pour  dimanche.  J'espere  que  vous  pourrez  dechiffrez  cette 
horrible  griffonnage. 

Recevez  de  tout  trois  les  sinceres  et  bonnes  amities. 

Bien  k  vous 

E.  Gautherot 

Will  you  write  english  for  me.  Je  commence  k  oublier. 

Did  you  ever  hear  anything  much  sweeter?  It  takes 
the  French  to  do  a  pretty  thing  like  that. 

I  am  planning  to  try  to  get  up  a  Camp  Christmas 
party  here.  I  shall  put  a  notice  in  the  New  York  Her- 
ald, for  I  think  we  might  get  quite  a  number  and  have 
a  real  party. 

November  13 
How  extraordinary  that  our  quiet  stay-at-home 
family  should  be  so  scattered  and  doing  such  different 
things!  That  is  the  immediate  effect  on  me  of  reading 
the  first  bunch  of  Molly's  letters.  I  don't  really  be- 
lieve it's  us. 

The  most  important  social  event  of  the  moment  is 
that  both  Sidney  F.  and  Mr.  Lippmann  are  going 
away.  I  shall  miss  Sidney,  for  I  have  enjoyed  many 
lunches  in  his  society  and  various  slow  walks  out  to 
Neuilly  in  the  evening,  with  him  reciting  yards  and 
yards  of  poetry  or  singing  endless  and  delightful  Eng- 
lish ballads.  I  shall  miss  Mr.  Lippmann,  too,  very 
much.  He  is  going  over  to  England  for  a  six  weeks* 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  105 

training  for  something  —  supply  officer,  I  think  — 
in  Aviation ;  and  then  will  go  to  the  front  somewhere 
or  to  one  of  the  schools.  Sidney  is  going  to-morrow  to 
Italy  on  a  volunteer  ambulance  section.  Well,  c'est  la 
guerre.  I  have  just  written  to  Mary  L.  to  see  if  she 
won't  come  up  and  do  the  files. 

To-day  Cousin  Richard  came  to  lunch.  He  is  very 
nice  and  I  loved  seeing  him.  We  are  at  once  setting 
out  to  get  all  the  Americains  in  Paris  to  sing  Christ- 
mas carols.  We  hope  to  get  started  this  Saturday 
evening;  and  I  must  immediately  make  a  list  of  every 
one  I  know.  We  are  going  at  the  list  on  a  large  scale, 
and  I  hope  we  may  get  a  decent  crowd;  though  if 
most  people  are  as  busy  as  my  Aviation  crowd  I  don't 
know  that  we  shall  succeed.  Speaking  of  Christmas,  I 
received  last  night  from  Mrs.  Wigglesworth  the  most 
delightful-looking  Christmas  stockings  I  ever  laid 
eyes  on.  In  case  I  don't  get  a  letter  off  to  her  on  this 
mail  will  you  telephone  out  and  tell  her  they  arrived 
safely  and  it  will  be  the  greatest  fun  in  the  world  to 
give  them? 

The  weather  has  not  been  bad  so  far,  as  far  as  cold 
is  concerned,  but  it  has  been  thoroughly  damp  and 
disagreeable.  I  have  discovered  just  one  rule  for  the 
weather:  if  it  starts  out  rather  cold  and  absolutely 
overcast  and  damp,  it  stays  that  way  all  day  and  you 
don't  need  an  umbrella;  if  it  starts  pleasant  (at  all 
pleasant,  for  it  never  starts  or  finishes  really  pleas- 
ant), it  rains  before  an  hour  or  two  is  up.  I  shall  have 
to  take  some  time  off  sometime  soon  and  buy  some 
lined  gloves  —  not  that  my  hands  are  any  colder 


io6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

than  at  home,  but  evidently  if  I  am  to  avoid  chilblains 
I  must  keep  them  warmer.  My  feet  are  always  wet. 
But  as  I  am  in  the  best  of  health  and  am  the  only 
person  in  my  acquaintance  who  has  not  had  a  very 
heavy  cold,  I  dare  say  I  shall  live  through. 

Sunday  I  had  a  full  and  pleasant  day.  I  went  to  see 
Mrs.  Munroe  first  (after  having  cooked  my  Sunday 
breakfast  of  bacon  and  fried  apples,  toast  and  coffee) 
and  thought  to  get  inoculated,  but  it  appears  that 
the  hospital  has  only  typhoid  and  para  together. 
Then  I  met  Bobby  J.  and  went  to  the  Russian 
Church  —  as  lovely  as  ever  sauf  one  soprano  who  was 
villainous.  Then  we  went  to  lunch,  and  after  a  lei- 
surely meal  went  to  Notre  Dame  for  the  organ  music 
there  —  so  different  from  the  other.  From  the  church 
point  of  view  I  much  prefer  the  Russian  to  the  Ro- 
man, but  the  music  was  wonderful  in  each.  After- 
wards we  walked  for  many  blocks,  past  the  Mus6e 
Cluny,  which  is,  alas,  closed,  but  is  enchanting  just 
from  the  outside,  over  to  the  Rue  des  Saints  Peres, 
where  I  met  Mr.  Fairbanks.  I  went  with  him  to  the 
Sauveurs';  then  we  dined,  "and  after  we  dined  we 
wined,"  and  then  walked  for  miles  and  miles  down 
the  Boulevard  Raspail  and  the  Boulevard  Saint- 
Germain,  Mr.  Fairbanks  singing  without  cease  all 
the  way.  Soothing  and  agreeable.  He  took  me  back 
to  Neuilly,  and  then  the  day  was  over. 

I  wrote  you  the  night  I  spent  with  K.  R.  in  town, 
but  I  wrote  before  I  had  looked  out  her  window  in  the 
morning  over  the  marvellous  bronze  chestnuts  under 
a  dappled   pink-cUid-gold   sky,    and   before    I    had 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  107 

walked  up  the  wonderful,  wonderful  Champs  Elys6es! 
The  view  and  the  walk  would  almost  reconcile  me  to 
living  at  the  Crillon  —  but  not  quite;  certainly  not  if 
I  had  to  breakfast  in  the  mausoleum  of  a  dining-room 
as  I  did  this  time. 

November  21 
I  am  sure  you  will  be  interested  to  know  that  yes- 
terday I  took  my  courage  and  my  money  in  both 
hands,  demanded  an  afternoon  off,  and  went  and 
ordered  a  suit!  My  plum-colored  one  (to  give  the 
rusty  thing  a  pretty  name)  has  decidedly  seen  its  best 
days  and  does  not  look  at  all  well  for  my  Sunday  calls. 
The  color  of  the  new  one  is  red !  —  though  not  quite 
as  red  as  I  wanted.  It  has  some  black,  fake  fur  on  the 
collar,  and  as  I  have  no  black  muff  I  think  I  will 
make  him  put  a  little  on  the  cuffs.  Of  course,  it  is 
rather  expensive,  and  I  shall  have  to  get  a  hat  and 
waist  to  go  with  it,  but  I  do  like  to  have  something 
a  little  amusing  to  wear  Sundays. 

The  great  piece  of  news  is  that  the  pep  and  punch 
has  gone  from  the  office  —  the  Major  has  been  pro- 
moted out  of  sight.  It  all  happened  very  suddenly, 
day  before  yesterday,  when  a  whole  bunch  —  the 
Major's  own  word,  so  I  know  it  is  right  —  of  officers 
dropped  out  of  the  sky  and  landed  in  every  depart- 
ment, reorganizing  the  whole  of  Aviation  and  putting 
every  one  in  a  different  place  from  where  he  was 
before.  The  Major  is  now  a  lieutenant-colonel  and 
the  third  most  important  person  in  all  American 
Aviation,  being  Assistant  Chief  of  Staff  to  General 


io8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Foulois  (who  pronounces  himself  Hke  an  Irishman  not 
a  Frenchman),  the  head  of  it  all.  From  the  Major's 
point  of  view  (I  suppose)  and  from  the  Country's,  it 
is  great;  but  it  happened  so  quickly,  without  the 
slightest  warning. 

That  has  so  eclipsed  everything  else  this  week  that 
I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you  of  other  things.  If  I 
follow  Father's  plan  and  begin  at  the  end  I  may  re- 
member what  has  happened  —  though  I  have  a  very 
queer  lack  of  sense  of  time  here,  so  many  things  hap- 
pen that  three  days  ago  seems  like  three  weeks. 

Monday:  Madame  Henri,  Jr.,  and  Mr.  Chochod, 
the  lodger,  came  for  me  and  took  me  out  to  dinner  in 
A  Large  Near-by  City.  It  was  quite  the  Frenchiest 
restaurant  I  have  been  to  yet,  chock  full  of  people 
all  talking  French  instead  of  being  about  half  Eng- 
lish or  Americans,  as  they  usually  are.  That  was 
amusing.  Sunday:  Chanced  to  meet  Hilda  W.  and 
Nora  and  had  supper  with  them  at  Colombin's.  Then 
carol  practice,  which  went  very  well,  I  think,  except 
for  the  fact  that  there  were  about  fifty  women  and 
four  men.  I  hope  next  week  we'll  get  more.  It  was  too 
good  to  be  true  to  be  singing  carols  again.  Saturday: 
Was  rather  tired  and  went  home  to  supper.  At  noon 
went  round  with  Fairbanks  to  see  his  old  battered  am- 
bulance, which  he  had  driven  at  Verdun  and  other 
choice  spots  and  in  which  he  has  now  fared  forth  to 
Italy.  Friday:  worked  long  hours  —  eight  in  the 
morning  till  eight-thirty  at  night,  except  for  lunch. 
Thursday:  farewell  party  with  Sidney  —  dinner  at. 
the  Franco- Italian  restaurant,  with  the  best  Italian 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  109 

wine  I  ever  tasted,  then  took  the  car  to  Porte  Maillot 
and  went  to  walk  in  the  Bois.  We  had  quite  a  funny 
time  in  a  way.  When  we  went  in  we  carefully  noticed 
how  we  should  have  to  go  by  the  stars  in  order  to  get 
home;  and  then,  of  course,  by  the  time  we  wanted  to 
go  home  the  stars  were  completely  hidden  by  fog.  As 
usual  I  was  sure  I  could  find  my  way  by  instinct  and 
as  usual  I  thought  after  awhile  we  were  completely 
lost  —  we  were,  too,  inasmuch  as  we  had  no  idea 
where  we  were  —  and  as  usual  we  came  out  just 
where  I  meant  to,  the  only  drawback  being  that  we 
found  ourselves  locked  into  the  Bois;  but  a  whistle 
and  a  franc  got  us  unlocked.  Wednesday:  Worked 
hard  and  got  home  late.  To-day  did  the  same,  pleas- 
antly broken  by  lunch  with  Bobby,  who  has  his  com- 
mission and  is  off  in  a  day  or  two  for  real  work. 

This  is  a  stupid  letter,  but  it  is  the  best  I  can  do  for 
the  present,  as  I  must  go  to  bed.  As  soon  as  the  in- 
terval is  over  and  things  running  smoothly  again,  I 
shall  doubtless  not  start  work  so  early  nor  end  so  late; 
but  gladly  would  I  work  all  evening  to  have  the  old 
hustler  back  to  make  you  feel  that  the  work  will 
really  help  win  the  war.  I  keep  thinking  of  how  proud 
his  mother  must  be  of  such  a  son — just  barely 
twenty-seven  and  one  of  the  most  important  people 
in  the  most  important  branch  of  the  Army  (or  so  we 
consider  it). 

November  28 
I  am  in  high  hopes  of  letters  to-morrow  and  also  of 
the  promised  Thanksgiving  candy  —  to-morrow  be- 


no  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

ing  that  festival.  Lieutenant  Skinner,  Mr.  Lippmann, 
and  a  particularly  nice  boy  called»Kenneth  Gaston, 
and  I  are  going  to  dine  together  somewhere  by  way 
of  a  family  party  —  the  funny  part  being  that  S. 
really  is  family. 

I  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  most  melting 
child:  twenty  months,  quite  plump,  with  tight  red 
curls;  understands  English  and  French  (one  parent 
being  one,  the  other  the  other),  but  doesn't  talk; 
not  particularly  shy,  and  utterly  absorbed  and  deter- 
mined. His  costume  was  as  abbreviated  as  possible, 
like  all  the  children  here.  I  am  going  there  to  lunch 
some  day  to  see  more  of  him —  "there"  being  the 
abode  of  an  English  girl  whom  I  met  at  the  Janets* 
and  who  now  works  at  Aviation.  I  think  we  might 
become  very  good  friends  if  there  were  ever  time  for 
such  a  thing. 

Sunday  I  lunched  with  Petit  and  Gautherot  and 
Dr.  Gano  and  then  the  doctor  and  I  walked  in  the 
Bois  for  a  couple  of  hours  —  it  was  a  beautiful  day, 
the  first  for  a  couple  of  months  —  never  rained  till 
about  half-past  eight.  To-day  I  saw  Petit  with  his 
new  leg  —  a  last  fitting  —  and  it  is  going  to  be  great. 
He  was  in  fine  feather. 

December  5 
I  tried  to  write  a  poem  or  think  of  a  joke  for  the 
Christmas  Tree,  but  they  would  n't  seem  to  come,  so 
I  send  the  enclosed  —  which  will  doubtless  come  too 
late. 

I  worked  at  the  office  till  eleven  to-night,  came 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  1 1 1 

home  and  ate  bread  and  honey,  and  it  is  now  too  late 
to  write.  I  am  well  and  working  hard  —  much  harder 
than  I  thought  I  could  and  get  away  with  it. 

Christmas  Breakfast  —  Two  Pictures. 

I 

In  France:  Coffee,  grapenuts  and  milk,  and  E.C.P. 

II 

At  home:  A  long  table  with  quantities  and  quantities  of 
the  nicest  people  in  the  world  round  it;  and  on  it  —  oh 
me,  oh  my!  Ham  and  eggs  and  turkey  and  hot  biscuits 
and  baked  apples  and  coffee  with  cream  in  it! 

Children  rushing  madly  about,  impatient  for  the  Christ- 
mas Tree  —  and  the  latest  baby  brought  in  at  ten  by  the 
nurse.  Then  the  Tree  and  Cousin  Frank  singing  his  song, 
and  the  bucket  and  sponge  ready  to  put  out  the  blaze;  and 
lapsful  of  presents  for  everybody,  even  for  those  who  think 
they  are  too  old  to  get  any  this  year;  and  poetic  poems  and 
funny  jokes,  and  finally  every  Mother-of-a-Family  stag- 
gering down  the  street  with  her  market  basket  full. 

Well ;  all  I  can  say  is,  which  breakfast  party  would  you 
rather  be  at?  Merry  Christmas! 

December  g 
This  is  Sunday  morning  and  in  spite  of  having  just 
had  a  delicious  breakfast  of  coffee  and  toasted  honey 
sandwiches,  I  am  in  a  perfect  gloom:  partly  because  I 
dreamed  Mother  came  to  visit  me,  but  chiefly  be- 
cause I  am  going  to  church  with  le  Capitaine  Truchet 
and  then  out  of  town  to  visit  some  friends  of  Sylvia 
D.'s  who  are  half  Cuban  and  half  Bostonian  —  and  I 
have  been  planning  all  week  to  wear  my  new  cos- 


112  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

tume  for  the  first  time  and  it  is  pouring  rain.  Pouring 
so  steadily  that  it  is  impossible  to  think  it  will  clear  in 
an  hour. 

Yesterday  I  was  getting  an  address  from  one  Miss 
Livingston  in  the  information  bureau,  of  a  place  to 
buy  a  very  cheap  muff  to  match  my  coat  collar,  and 
it  seemed  to  be  too  far,  so  she  whispered  to  me  that 
Monsieur  de  Monclos  (a  youth  standing  by)  was  just 
going  that  way  and  would  I  like  him  to  get  me  a 
muff?  Of  course  I  said  I  should  be  enchanted,  so  she 
turned  and  told  him,  and  without  showing  the  slight- 
est surprise  he  said  he  would  be  delighted,  and  did  I 
want  one  of  the  new  smart  shapes  larger  in  the  mid- 
dle and  quite  small  at  the  ends?  I  almost  collapsed  — 
fancy  a  boy  at  home  knowing  exactly  what  the  latest 
shape  in  muffs  was!  It  is  the  Frenchest  thing  I  have 
met  yet.  Well  —  he  got  me  a  cute  muff,  not  at  all  ex- 
pensive, but  gray  instead  of  black  —  the  latter  being 
more  expensive  and  less  chic.  I  can  change  it  if  I 
want,  and  I  wish  you  were  here  to  decide.  I  think  I 
shall  keep  it,  for  I  hate  furnishings,  whether  of  people 
or  houses,  that  match  too  well,  and  it  will  be  such 
a  bore  to  change  it  and  look  for  another  —  though 
M.  de  Monclos  said,  of  course  he  would  take  it  back 
for  me  —  why  should  I  bother? 

Does  Louisa  by  any  chance  know  Kenneth  G.?  As 
nice  a  boy,  all-round,  as  I  have  ever  met.  Any  girl, 
etc.  Twenty  years  old,  came  over  in  the  Norton- 
Harjes  Ambulemce.  Of  course  he  is  leaving  in  three  or 
four  days  with  Mr.  Lippmann  for  a  course  in  Supply 
in  England.  Then  every  one  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
seeing  will  have  gone.   Such  is  life  in  Army  circles. 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  1 13 

There  are  three  colis  for  me  at  the  Ambulance  and 
I  am  going  to  get  them  this  morning.  Perhaps  it  is  my 
Thanksgiving  treat! 

.  .  .  After  my  bad  start  this  morning  I  certainly 
had  de  la  veine.  We  —  le  capitaine  et  moi  —  reached 
the  Russian  Church  fifteen  minutes  early,  but  went 
right  in,  and  found,  contrary  to  custom,  four  men  in 
civilian  clothes,  under  academic  gowns  of  gold-and- 
white  brocade  (the  combination  was  bizarre),  stand- 
ing in  the  body  of  the  church,  one  of  them  swinging 
incense  down  the  main  path  (there  are  no  pillars  and 
no  seats  and  therefore  no  aisles)  after  each  person  had 
come  in  —  as  a  greeting  to  that  person,  I  thought, 
but  it  turned  out  to  be  to  re-purify  the  air  for  the 
very  grand  personage  who  entered  later.  This  was 
evidently  a  top-notch  bishop  or  something  like  that. 
He  entered  finally,  in  black  robes  with  a  tall  black 
cap  with  veil  hanging  down  behind,  and  two  heavy 
chains  about  his  neck,  and  crucifix  on  each.  He  was 
welcomed  by  a  burst  of  song  from  the  choir  and  went 
immediately  to  the  inner  temple  for  a  minute  or  so, 
conducted  by  two  of  the  gold-and-white  civilians 
who  held  him  firmly  by  either  arm.  He  had  a  very 
long  black  beard  and  was  quite  stunning.  They  then 
brought  him  back,  stood  him  on  a  dais  in  the  centre 
of  the  church,  and  brought  up  a  stool  with  a  pile  of 
neatly  folded  stuff  upon  it  and  proceeded  to  clothe 
him  in  the  following  garments  —  each  of  which  he 
kissed  before  donning:  (i)  surgeon's  gown  of  white 
satin,  enormous  sleeves  wrapped  tight  and  tied  around 
wrists;  (2)  a  broad  fitted  band  around  the  neck  and 


114  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

coming  to  the  ankles  —  white,  marvellously  em- 
broidered in  gold ;  (3)  a  narrower  band,  same  embroid- 
ery around  waist,  tightly  tied  behind;  (4)  deep  em- 
broidered cuffs;  (5)  a  large  eighteen-inch  diamond, 
white  and  gold  with  gold  fringe,  hung  from  neck  with 
gold  cords,  and  eventually  hanging  outside  every- 
thing at  one  side,  like  a  satchel;  (6)  a  heavily  em- 
broidered gown  split  up  at  the  sides,  but  entirely  cov- 
ering everything  that  went  before,  except  the  satchel ; 

(7)  two  stoles,  one  around  the  neck  and  hanging  down 
in  front,  the  other  vice  versa —  I  think  it's  stoles  I 
mean  —  broad,  unshaped  bands —  these  more  heav- 
ily embroidered  in  gold  than  all  that  went  before; 

(8)  the  chains  and  crucifix;  (9)  a  great  solid  gold 
crown  or  bonnet,  with  enamel  pictures  —  medallions 
—  at  the  sides.  All  during  the  process  the  choir  sang. 
I  forget  just  what  ceremony  came  next,  except  that 
he  was  presented  with  two  gold  three-candled  candle- 
sticks, which  he  dipped  toward  one  part  of  the  con- 
gregation after  another  —  evidently  a  blessing  — 
and  had  his  hand  kissed  on  presentation  and  recep- 
tion of  the  candlesticks:  this  was  done  at  the  end  of 
each  part  of  the  service  —  perhaps  half  a  dozen  times 
in  all.  Then  he  went  to  the  screen,  which  I  have  de- 
scribed before,  and  the  doors  opened  and  he  was 
joined  by  four  more  priests  all  in  gold-and-white,  one 
with  a  crown  like  his  and  the  others  in  tall  red  velvet 
caps  —  two  very  old  ones  with  long  white  beards  and 
rather  long  white  hair,  the  others  with  coal-black 
beards.  The  service  I  could  n't  understand,  naturally, 
but  there  was  much   more  singing  beside  the  re- 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  115 

sponses  than  usual  and  at  its  very  best.  We  were  at 
one  side  in  the  very  front  where  we  felt  very  much 
part  of  it,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  solemn  it  was  and 
how  moving  —  the  people's  way  of  kneeling  and 
bowing  themselves  to  the  floor  is  somehow  very 
touching.  It  is  so  different  from  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church:  Partly,  I  suppose,  because  the  church  is  so 
small,  but  partly  for  more  important  reasons,  I  imag- 
ine, it  all  seems  so  much  more  intimate  and  personal 
—  quite  thrilling.  I  feel  I  was  in  the  greatest  luck  to 
have  happened  on  to-day.  The  music  was  perfection. 
Then  I  lunched  with  Truchet. 

The  Champs  Elysees  is  still  green;  I  wonder  if  it 
ever  changes? 

Last  week  and  the  early  part  of  this  week  I  had  a 
good  deal  too  much  to  do,  but  now  we  have  six  en- 
listed men,  who  seem  a  good  lot,  in  the  office,  so  I 
have  less.  For  the  time  being  I  am  still  on  call  for 
Colonel  G.  and  have  had  one  or  two  interesting 
papers. 

By  this  time  it  is  Thursday  the  13th.  It  is  incredi- 
ble that  Christmas  is  so  near.  We  are  going  to  sing  on 
Christmas  Eve  and  also  on  Christmas  afternoon.  I  am 
lunching  with  the  Dells,  where  that  darling  little  red- 
haired  baby  boy  is. 

December  16 
Do  not  think  me  unsympathetic  if  I  don't  com- 
ment more  on  your  letters.  ...  But  I  will  certainly 
comment  on  people's  being  so  fearfully  nice  as  to  give 
me  money.  I  will  write  to  them  all,  of  course,  in  time. 


Ii6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Aunt  Isa's,  I  think,  and  perhaps  part  of  the  rest  I  will 
use  for  Christmas  or  the  Jour  de  lAn,  which  is  their 
great  time,  and  get  things  for  some  of  the  blesses  who 
have  gone  —  they  will  have  less  done  about  them; 
and  also  Mrs.  Wigglesworth  has  sent  me  twelve  won- 
derful stockings  which  I  shall  distribute  in  Ward  69 
and  to  Michel  and  Gautherot  at  Malmaison. 

December  26 
Your  cable  arrived  this  morning,  and  very  nice  it 
was  —  though  I  wish  it  had  been  you  instead. 

This  is  not  to  be  a  letter  and  there  will  be  none  this 
week.  I  have  just  drunk  six  cups  of  weak  tea  with  lots 
of  lemon  in  it,  and  I  invite  your  inspection  of  the 
time-table  below  for  the  last  three  days  —  then  you 
will  see  why  I  am  anxious  to  go  to  bed  early  the  rest 
of  this  week. 

Please  bear  in  mind  that  it  takes  at  least  half  an 
hour  to  get  from  anywhere  to  anywhere. 

Saturday,  December  22: 

Work  as  usual ;  went  in  town  to  buy  something  at 
noon.  Dined  with  F.  Clarke  to  arrange  party.  Spent 
some  time  freezing  in  biting  wind  on  the  bridge 
watching  the  aeroplanes  drop  rockets  —  false  alarm  of 
a  raid — wonderful  night  —  brilliant  moonlight  above 
and  misty  over  the  river.   Got  home  about  10.15. 

Sunday,  December  23: 

Left  the  house  at  9.30;  went  in  town  and  walked 
up  the  Bid.  de  la  Madeleine  buying  joke  presents 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  117 

from  street  venders  —  coldest  wind  I  ever  felt;  thou- 
sands of  little  packages  to  carry  —  mostly  not  tied 
with  string. 

1 1 :  Reached  F.  Clarke's  hotel  and  we  went  over  to 
the  restaurant.  Went  to  the  market  hard  by  and 
bought  holly  and  mistletoe.  F.  had  trimmed  the  cun- 
ningest  little  fake  tree  you  ever  saw  —  about  a  foot 
high.  Wrote  slightly  humorous  inscriptions  for  the 
presents;  arranged  currant  jelly  and  candied  cherries 
in  little  dishes;  table  really  looked  quite  pretty. 

11.45:  Back  to  hotel;  washed  up;  met  the  people; 
waited  several  hours  for  Nora  and  Hilda;  turned  out 
they  thought  it  was  to  be  Christmas,  so  we  had  seven 
men  and  three  ladies.  Very  genial,  good  food  and 
quite  near-homelike. 

3.30:  Back  to  Neuilly;  packed  up  Mrs.  Wiggles- 
worth's  stockings,  ten  of  them,  two  having  gone  out 
to  Malmaison,  and  lugged  them  over  to  the  hospital 
—  no  light  load !  Paid  a  call  on  Ward  69  and  bought  a 
bead  chain  made  by  a  blesse  for  Aunt  B. 

6.30:  Went  in  town;  had  dinner;  went  to  the  Red 
Cross  rooms;  moved  about  fifty  chairs  and  tables; 
read  some  shorthand  notes. 

8.30:  Carol  practice  —  extra  long. 

10.30:  Home  again. 

Monday,  December  24. 

8.00:  Left  Neuilly. 

8.30-9:  Bought  and  arranged  holly  with  big  bows 
of  red  ribbon  at  the  window  or  door  of  four  offices; 
glad  I  did,  for  Colonel  D.  told  me  to-day  that  he 


ii8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

thought  as  many  as  twelve  officers  had  said  how  nice 
it  was.  .  .  .  Tied  elegant  pieces  of  red  ribbon  round 
ten  cakes  of  Baker's  chocolate  which  I  stole  from  Mrs. 
W.'s  boxes,  substituting  French  chocolate  of  first 
quality  for  it  —  because  that  was  just  as  well  liked  by 
the  blesses  and  American  chocolate  is  so  much  appre- 
ciated by  Americans  —  and  gave  them  to  the  younger 
boys  in  the  office.  I  hope  Mrs.  W.  does  n't  mind  it.  It 
was  the  only  Christmas  present  one  of  the  boys  had, 
because  his  family  expected  he  would  be  back. 

9-12.30:  Worked. 

12.30-2:  Lunched  and  went  in  town  to  buy  a  Boy 
Scout  knife  for  Max. 

2-4.30:  Worked. 

4.30:  Left  and  went  a  thousand  miles  to  the  Hospi- 
tal of  Val  de  Gr§.ce  where  we  sang  carols  downstairs 
to  officers  and  doctors,  and  upstairs  in  a  big  ward 
where  the  windows  had  never  been  opened  —  really 
a  GREAT  success. 

6.30:  Dined  with  other  carolers. 

7.30-8.30:  Back  to  the  office  for  a  message  as  to 
where  Sylvia  Dell  had  been  able  to  get  a  room  for  the 
night. 

8.30-9 :  En  route  for  a  canteen  at  the  Gare  du  Nord. 

9-9.30:  Sang  to  about  three  hundred  soldiers  — 
room  thick  with  smoke.  Went  pretty  well,  though 
every  one  was  tired.  Got  back  to  the  hotel  about 

10.15 :  Lay  down  half  an  hour  or  more.  Later  joined 
by  Sylvia  Dell  and  Kenneth. 

1 1 :  Went  to  St.  Germain  for  the  midnight  mass. 
Only  seats  left  were  in  the  last  row,  even  at  that  hour. 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  119 

12-1.15:  Service.  Quite  lovely  singing,  including 
the  song  Coz  Frank  sings  at  breakfast. 
1.30:  Something  to  eat,  and  bed. 

Tuesday,  December  25  —  Christmas : 

6.40  A.M :  A  hot  bath ! 

7.50:  Reached  hospital,  brought  the  stockings 
down  to  the  ward.  Greatest  possible  success.  They  were 
crazy  about  everything. 

Mrs.  Wigglesworth  would  certainly  have  been  sat- 
isfied if  she  had  seen  Ward  69  at  eight  o'clock  that 
morning.  The  night  nurse  had  gone  off  duty  and  the 
day  nurse  had  not  come  on,  so  I  had  the  men  all  to 
myself  and  no  one  was  trying  to  make  beds  or  clean 
up.  They  had  different  methods  of  opening  the  stock- 
ings, but  the  favorite  was  to  take  all  the  little  pack- 
ages out  first  and  arrange  them  on  the  bed  to  gaze  at 
and  then  slowly  unwrap.  They  loved  the  colored 
papers;  and  the  big  red  ribbon,  which  they  said  they 
should  keep  always.  The  favorite  things,  I  think, 
were  the  drinking-cups  and  the  "funny"  things  — 
"guignols"  they  call  them.  There  is  one  specially 
slow  and  solid  man,  rather  older  than  the  rest,  who 
was  really  infatuated  with  his  guignol.  I  left  him  still 
pulling  the  string  and  beaming  at  it. 

When  I  was  leaving  Petit  asked  me  to  tie  a  silver 
string  he  had  wound  round  a  tiny  parcel  done  up  in 
Mrs.  W.'s  red  tissue  paper,  and  then  gave  it  to  me 
saying  that  it  was  nothing  —  a  little  souvenir  of 
France.  I  stuck  it  rather  carelessly  into  my  belt  (for- 
tunately did  n't  lose  it)  and  did  n't  open  it  till  later 


120  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

at  home,  and  what  do  you  suppose  it  was?  The  ribbon 
barette  with  the  palm,  in  bronze,  of  his  croix  de 
guerre !  —  the  thing  you  pin  on  your  coat  instead  of 
wearing  the  whole  medal.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any- 
thing so  sweet?  I  guess  I  '11  never  in  my  life  have  as 
nice  a  Christmas  present  as  that,  again. 

9-10.30:  Breakfasted,  and  opened  my  Christmas 
presents.  At  ten  Bobby  came,  being  down  for  two 
days. 

10.30-1 1.45:  Walked  by  the  Seine  and  back  by  the 
Bois  with  Bobby,  which  was  uncommonly  nice. 

1 1. 45-12. 30:  Got  dressed  and  went  to  the  Dells'  for 
lunch. 

12.30-3:  At  the  Dells';  the  Arosarenas  were  there 
and  very  nice,  and  Giles,  Sylvia's  nephew  of  about 
eighteen  months,  with  bright-red  fluffy  curly  hair 
and  the  pinkest  cheeks  and  whitest  neck  in  the  world 
—  in  a  cream-colored  flannel  suit,  with  emerald- 
green  collar  and  cufifs —  ravissant! 

3-3.30:  En  route. 

3.30:   Sang   at   another   French   hospital  —  went 

finely. 

4.30-5.30:  En  route  and  singing  at  a  Red  Cross 
gathering,  which  was  almost  the  nicest,  for  there's  no 
getting  round  the  fact  that  the  French  do  not  appreci- 
ate Christmas. 

5.30-6:  En  route. 

6-7 :  Resting,  dressing,  and  going  to  the  Lauths'. 

7-9.30:  Dinner,  tree  (without  presents),  music. 

10:  Bed.  It  makes  me  sigh  again  to  reach  that 
point. 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  121 

Sunday,  December  30 

I  adore  Father's  "rambling  letters,"  so  don't  ever 
let  him  make  them  any  different. 

This  has  been  a  "Christmas  every  day"  week.  I 
told  you  about  the  things  that  came  on  or  before 
Christmas  Day.  Mrs.  L.  sent  me  the  most  delicious 
cake  that  ever  was  tasted:  a  Union  dark  chocolate 
cake  with  fluffy  white  frosting  under  a  thin  coating 
of  chocolate,  on  top,  and  more  white  in  the  crack.  I 
can  only  say  that  it  travelled  perfectly,  that  there  are 
Bostonians  here  to  whose  eyes  it  brought  tears  of  joy, 
that  there  is  no  cake  worthy  the  name  in  France  — 
just  ridiculous  little  pastry  affairs  —  and  that  my 
birthday  is  February  21st.  Mrs.  L.'s  cake  arrived  here 
at  the  office  and  did  n't  last  very  long.  Oh,  but  it  was 
good !  —  and  about  twenty-five  people  had  a  piece 
of  it. 

To-day  I  had  allotted  for  staying  in  bed,  clearing 
up,  etc.,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  a  little  cold  I  have  had; 
but  the  Infant  Hercules  having  returned  I  came  down 
to  the  office  at  nine  and  have  been  here  ever  since  — 
half-past  four  —  though  I  have  had  almost  no  work 
from  him,  as  he  worked  last  night  till  six  this  morning 
and  did  n't  get  here  till  twelve  in  consequence.  But 
there  were  various  other  hard-up-for-a-typist  gentle- 
men to  work  for. 

As  for  living  in  Paris,  of  course  it  would  save  much 
time  and  be  much  better,  but  I  am  so  thoroughly  es- 
tablished I  hate  to  move.  Everything  is  the  way  I  like 
it:  I  like  the  people,  I  do  just  what  I  want,  and  yet 
have  some  one  to  talk  to  when  I  do  go  home,  etc. 


122  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

They  have  enough  coal  to  keep  the  living-room  very 
warm.  My  room  is  cold,  I  admit,  but  I  am  never  there 
except  when  I  am  in  bed  —  except  when  I  get  up  in 
the  morning,  and  then  it  is  going  some  to  stand  in  the 
middle  of  a  flat  tin  tub  and  have  a  cold  sponge.  It 
seems  as  if  shortly  we  should  have  no  petrol ;  in  fact, 
already  I  feel  very  guilty  if  I  read  in  bed  any  length 
of  time. 

I  have  bought  quite  a  pretty  chain,  I  think,  for  a 
birthday  present  for  Aunt  Bessie.  The  blesse  who 
made  it  described  it  to  me  as  "  tres  discret  ";  I  hope 
it  is  also  gay  enough  to  suit  her  disposition.  I  have 
been  wearing  it  with  much  pleasure  myself  for  the 
last  week. 

The  Jour  de  I'An  is  such  a  terrific  holiday  here  that 
they  are  closing  down  one  of  the  chief  airplane  facto- 
ries (all,  I  dare  say)  for  two  days! 

All  the  really  smart  children  who  play  on  the 
Champs  Ely  sees  have  peasant  women  for  nurses  — 
Bretonnes,  I  should  say  —  with  enormously  full 
skirts  and  sleeves  trimmed  with  very  broad  bands  of 
black  velvet,  black  velvet  pointed  bodices,  and  little 
white  embroidered  caps.  Many  of  them  have  delight- 
ful brown-red  weather-beaten  faces,  and  those  very 
smooth  foreheads  and  clear  brown  eyes  that  seem  to 
go  with  the  peasants.  Little  white  aprons  often.  I 
have  tried  to  see  why  the  children  look  so  very  well 
dressed  and  have  brought  it  down  to  four  things:  they 
wear  very  bright,  clear  colors  —  rarely  browns  and 
grays  or  dull  colors;  the  hats  or  caps  match  the  coats 
or  are  very  evidently  meant  to  go  with  just  that  par- 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  123 

ticular  costume;  the  legs  are  very  neatly  encased  in 
leather  gaiters  all  the  way  up ;  and  the  hair  is  always 
hanging,  often  curled  or  curly,  and  almost  always 
striking  in  one  way  or  another  —  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  bright-red  hair. 

Last  night  I  went  with  Kenneth  to  "Tosca"  — 
ravishing!  Very  well  done:  excellent  acting  and  fine 
voices.  The  music  is  too  beautiful ;  I  wish  I  could  see 
it  three  nights  running.  To-day  we  were  to  go  to 
Chartres,  but  "the  boys"  decided  we  were  all  too 
tired  and  it  was  too  cold  to  get  up  for  the  early  train ; 
and  I  must  say  I  think  they  were  right.  So  I  slept 
late  and  met  them  in  town  at  Henriette's,  where  we 
lunched  together  and  then  went  to  see  the  pictures  at 
the  Luxembourg  —  which  did  n't  thrill  me.  They 
have  n't  much  of  a  collection.  Give  me  Angelica  Pat- 
terson's Souls,  Mrs.  Page's  babies,  Sargent's  Rocky 
Mountain  camps,  with  the  blue  smoke  going  up,  a 
few  Sorolla  bathers,  and  an  occasional  Hallowell 
great  oak  tree  on  a  hill,  and  you  may  keep  your  Lux- 
embourg. Oh,  just  add  some  Carl  Larsen  water-colors 
of  his  own  children  —  and  I  will  have  them,  please,  in 
a  warmish  place,  and  not  in  a  dark  hall  with  a  stone 
floor,  several  degrees  colder  than  the  air  outdoors. 
That  would  have  been  another  trouble  with  Chartres 
—  neither  train  nor  cathedral  would  have  been 
heated;  so  we  have  put  it  off  till  next  spring.  After 
that  we  wxnt  and  warmed  up  on  some  hot  cofTee. 
Kenneth  left  us  to  pay  a  call,  and  Lippy  and  I  walked 
down  Boulevard  Raspail  across  the  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde bridge  (hanging  over  the  parapet  a  long  time 


124  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

to  watch  the  single  red  light  of  each  automobile  ap- 
proach the  bridge  beyond  us  and  become  two  lights 
as  it  passed,  apparently  through  space,  over  the  in- 
visible bridge  and  was  reflected  in  the  river  below). 
Then  I  came  out  and  paid  a  little  visit  to  Ward  69. 
Petit  is  sweeter  each  time.  He  has  let  his  hair  grow 
longer  and  it  is  rather  curly  —  he  is  almost  good- 
looking.  He  is  to  be  evacuated  soon  to  a  hospital 
near  his  home  in  the  south  of  France. 

I  have  been  working  quite  hard  this  week,  the  In- 
fant Hercules  being  de  retour,  including  a  Sunday  and 
an  evening  or  two;  but  New  Year's  evening  I  went  to 
a  very  gay  and  very  pretty,  old-fashioned  musical 
comedy  called  "Saltimbanque"  —  had  great  fun. 

January  9,  191 8 
I  have  invented  a  way  to  get  up  in  the  morning 
which  makes  it  almost  a  pleasure  instead  of  an  unen- 
durable torture.  I  have  been  having  my  window  shut 
(by  poor  Madame  Henri  who  murmurs,  "Quelle  hor- 
reur,  quelle  horreur!"  under  her  breath  as  she  does  so 
—  they  all  shut  theirs  about  two  months  and  a  half 
ago)  and  my  quart  of  hot  water  brought  at  quarter  of 
seven,  and  breakfast  at  quarter-past.  Well,  it  seemed 
almost  impossible  to  get  up  into  that  utterly  chilly 
room  and  take  an  ice-cold  sponge  and  get  dry  with  a 
very  damp  towel ;  so  now  I  have  breakfast  at  quarter 
of  seven  in  bed,  and  of  course  I  have  to  sit  up  at  once 
for  that,  as  otherwise  the  coffee  would  be  stone  cold, 
and  by  the  time  I  have  eaten  breakfast  and  written 
a  bit  of  a  letter,  if  I  have  time,  I  am  entirely  ready 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  125 

to  get  up.  The  only  trouble  is  that  I  dress  more 
slowly  because  I  am  so  much  more  comfortable. 

To-day  I  have  received  the  Christmas  Box  and 
your  letters  written  after  Christmas,  so  I  feel  as 
though  we  were  really  having  Christmas  together. 
The  Box  was  great  fun  —  really  more  fun  than  if  it 
had  come  Christmas. 

Last  night  I  had  a  very  amusing  time.  I  went  out 
with  Lippy  and  Kenneth  to  see  the  old  lady  Lippy 
lives  with.  He  met  her  last  autumn  walking  in  the  Park 
and  fell  into  converse  with  her,  and  she  said  her  son 
of  just  L.'s  age  had  been  killed  in  the  war,  and  L.  re- 
minded her  so  of  him  —  and  would  he  care  to  come 
and  board  with  her?  She  dotes  on  him  and  absolutely 
spoils  him.  Her  parlor  is  about  eight  by  five  and  her 
kitchen  four  by  five,  and  I  could  touch  the  ceiling  (I 
think).  She  was  thrilled  at  having  us,  and  had  pre- 
pared apple  fritters,  which  we  had  with  sugar  Lippy's 
mother  had  sent  her,  and  Bordeaux  —  then  tea.  We 
had  quite  a  hilarious  time.  They  walked  home  with 
me;  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  but  a  balmy 
night. 

For  three  days  now  I  have  had  about  half  a  day's 
work  to  do  and  I  have  enjoyed  myself  a  great  deal.  I 
do  like  either  to  work  my  head  off  or  to  do  nothing  — 
I  hate  having  just  enough  to  do.  The  end  of  last  week 
I  worked  my  head  off,  so  I  was  ready  for  this  change ; 
this  afternoon  I  literally  did  nothing. 

To-morrow,  Sunday,  I  am  going  to  send  off  little 
packages  to  anciens  blesses  —  things  I  did  n't  get  off 
at  Christmas  because  I  could  n't  get  any  cigarettes 


126  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

till  just  lately,  and  then  from  our  Q.  M.None  of  the 
French  places  have  tobacco  in  any  form.  The  lack  of 
bread  which  you  may  have  read  of  is  apparently 
partly  or  mainly  caused  by  lack  of  transportation 
facilities  for  flour  and  trains  blocked  by  the  snow.  It 
is  st\e  comme  tout  underfoot  —  steady  slush  a  couple 
of  inches  deep. 

January  23 
I  don't  believe  I  ever  told  you  about  Colonel  D., 
did  I?  He  works  in  an  entirely  different  way  from 
Colonel  G.,  but  seems  to  get  there  quite  as  well.  He 
knows  when  to  emphasize  and  when  not  to;  is  very 
easy-going  in  a  way  —  very  informal  and  friendly  — 
and  yet  when  he  wants  a  thing  put  through  he  gets  it 
done  in  double-quick  order.  He  makes  the  most  auda- 
cious requests  of  the  C.A.S.  and  always  gets  his  way. 
He  is  not  content  with  sending  a  letter  —  he  goes 
along  with  it  and  gets  the  answer.  You  hear  him  say 
over  the  telephone,  "You  can't  disturb  me,"  and  it's 
true.  He  says:  "Why  get  mad  over  a  thing  when  you 
can  get  everything  you  want  without?"  He  lacks  G.'s 
chief  virtues,  but  is  a  very  good  scout. 

Mary  has  gone  back  again  to  Bordeaux.  Saturday 
she  and  Kenneth  and  P.  Drinker  and  I  went  on  a 
party:  dined  at  Boeuf  k  la  Mode  and  went  to  the 
Theatre  Frangais.  We  had  the  most  wonderful 
"pressed  duck"  at  dinner.  It  was  first  brought  in  to 
us  on  a  silver  plate  and  introduced — "Alice,  the 
duck  —  the  duck,  Alice"  —  then  taken  to  a  side  ta- 
ble near  by,  where  three  men  carved  it  and  three 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  127 

more  made  a  sauce  of  many  good  things  in  a  chafing- 
dish,  pouring  on  brandy  and  setting  it  all  aflame,  in 
the  unique  way  they  have  here.  The  carcass,  drum- 
sticks, etc.,  were  then  put  into  a  silver  cider-press  and 
crushed,  till  all  the  juice  ran  out  of  a  silver  spigot  into 
the  silver  chafing-dish  —  there  to  mix  with  the  sauce 
and  to  receive  the  slices  of  duck.  It  was  extraordinar- 
ily good ;  but  the  best  part  was  the  reverential  way  in 
which  the  six  men  prepared  it  —  their  rapt  attention 
to  its  welfare.  The  play  was  Abb6  Constantin  and  was 
perfect  —  the  acting,  the  setting  —  everything  beau- 
tifully done.  We  all  simply  loved  it.  As  indicated 
above,  I  spent  the  night  with  Mary. 

Lippy  went  Thursday.  Did  I  tell  you,  I  wonder, 
about  going  to  his  house  one  evening  and  about  the 
party  his  landlady,  Madame  Simonie,  had  for  us? 
There  was  a  little  group  of  women  out  there  at  Passy 
who  had  a  sort  of  sewing  circle:  Madame  Simonie, 
Kenneth's  landlady,  Mac's  landlady,  and  Madame 
Lethomme  —  a  very  spicy  old  dame  who  keeps  a 
grocery  shop  and  has  a  lovely,  affectionate,  but  stu- 
pid niece.  All  was  well  until  the  advent  of  these  vari- 
ous boys;  but  now  the  old  ladies  are  ready  to  tear 
each  other's  eyes  out  and  call  each  other  every  pos- 
sible name.  The  lovely  Georgette  and  the  boys  have 
broken  up  the  sewing  circle.  However,  on  Saturday  I 
am  going  with  Mac  and  Harry  Harter,  who  now  has 
Lippy's  room,  and  Kenneth  to  Madame  Simonie's  in 
the  evening.  She  lives  very  near  the  school  where  Peter 
Ibbetson  went  —  we  pass  it  on  our  way  to  Neuilly. 


128  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

January  25 
This  has  been  an  almost  painfully  entrancing  day. 
They  all  say  Paris  in  spring  really  is  something  to 
dream  of,  but  if  it  is  more  intoxicating  than  to-day  I 
don't  think  I  can  stand  it.  When  I  left  the  house  the 
fog  was  so  thick  you  could  n't  see  fifty  yards,  and 
during  my  forty-minute  walk  to  the  ofhce  I  had  every 
effect  between  that  and  a  sunny  day  with  blue  sky 
overhead,  though  still  fog  below.  By  two  o'clock,  af- 
ter lunch,  it  was  so  lovely  it  almost  hurt  —  creamy 
lights  on  the  buildings  and  ravishing  blue  mists  down 
the  tree-arched  avenues.  We  walked  down  by  the 
river  —  way  down  right  by  the  edge  —  and  saw  the 
towers  of  the  Tuileries,  and  the  trees  on  the  banks, 
and  the  softly  shining  gold  figures  on  the  Pont  Alex- 
andre, framed  by  the  arches  of  the  bridges.  And  we 
watched  them  build  concrete  river  boats  and  peel  off 
the  wooden  outsides,  and  —  well,  that's  all,  really, 
but  the  day  just  went  to  your  head.  Kenneth  was  on 
the  top  of  the  wave,  probably  because  of  a  moonlight 
walk  he  took  last  night  with  "  Pirie"  a  charming  and 
bright,  well-educated,  and  independent  French  girl 
who  works  in  the  file  room  where  he  does.  She  cer- 
tainly is  a  winner. 

Then  at  six  we  went  to  see  a  Mrs.  Dodd,  an  Ameri- 
can who  has  been  here  seventeen  years,  and  she  told 
us  about  the  wonderful  face  masks  Mrs.  Ladd  is  mak- 
ing for  face  cases  —  of  bronze,  almost  as  light  as 
aluminum,  painted.  One  man  saw  his  mask  and  said: 
"Mais,  Madame,  c'est  —  moi!"  I  am  going  to  her 
studio  some  day  on  the  strength  of  living  next  door  at 


U.S.  AIR  SERVICE  129 

home,  for  it  sounds  thrilling;  the  face  cases  are  so 
much  worse  than  anything.  Mrs.  Dodd  was  extremely 
agreeable,  entertaining  and  interesting  —  the  kind  of 
person  who  reads  Tacitus  twice  through  because  it 
throws  so  much  light  on  the  war;  has  read  every- 
thing, knows  everybody,  goes  everywhere,  and  ac- 
complishes a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  good,  solid  work 
and  lavish  hospitality  to  friends  and  poilus  alike. 

By  the  way,  I  am  going  to  move  in  town  some- 
where in  the  course  of  the  next  few  weeks,  in  order 
not  to  have  the  lonely  walk  home  at  night.  When  I 
am  settled  I  will  cable  my  address. 

January  26 
At  home  and  in  bed  after  an  evening  chez  Lippy's 
landlady,  with  five  French  girls  and  a  French  boy  and 
three  of  our  own  boys.  We  went  there  after  supper 
and  walked  all  the  way  out  by  the  river  in  the  full 
moonlight  —  very  misty  below.  The  Eiffel  Tower, 
shadowly  outlined,  so  massive  and  so  graceful,  with 
the  moon  shining  on  the  upper  part,  two  or  three  big 
stars  round  its  head,  and  a  yellow  street  lamp  with 
long  reflection  at  its  feet,  was  something  to  see.  Look- 
ing back  toward  the  city  there  was  a  yellowish  tinge 
to  sky  and  water  and  mist  —  more  beautiful  than  I 
can  say,  though  not  so  intoxicatingly  so  as  yester- 
day's sun  and  mist.  It  was  a  lovely  walk  and  a  scene  I 
shall  never  forget.  I  walked  on  the  stone  wall  part  of 
the  way.  It  was  entirely  deserted,  you  know,  like  the 
depths  of  the  country. 


130  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

January  27 
Another  enchanting  day.  Paris  is  certainly  the 
most  beautiful  spot  in  the  world.  Came  down  to  the 
office  at  about  half-past  ten,  this  being  Sunday  — 
worked  till  about  half-past  one  and  had  a  good 
lunch  of  rognons  et  choux  de  Bruxelle,  which  are  such 
favorite  dishes  they  are  apt  to  be  all  gone  by  the  time 
we  get  there.  Then  we  crossed  the  Seine  and  walked 
down  the  left  bank,  regarding  the  most  exquisite 
scene  —  the  most  alluring  —  possible.  I  wish  I  could 
describe  it  adequately,  but  I  can't.  It  was  all  golden 
mist,  with  creamy  buildings  and  bridges  and  river 
walls  rising  from  mirror-like  flat  swirls  of  greeny, 
bluey,  and  gold  water  —  occasionally  a  great  pile  of 
yellow  sand  on  the  quai  to  accentuate  the  yellows  and 
browns  in  the  water.  The  lines  of  the  bridges  and  the 
way  they  are  "stream-lined,"  as  it  were,  to  meet  the 
walls,  is  marvellous  —  nothing  on  the  dead  level,  but 
always  a  slight  rise  or  fall.  All  along  the  bank  were 
men  of  every  age  with  enormously  long  fishing-poles, 
and  just  after  Kenneth  had  bet  me  untold  sums  that 
no  one  would  catch  anything  and  I  had  failed  to  take 
him  up,  we  actually  saw  a  good-sized,  white,  un- 
healthy-looking fish  brought  up.  The  whole  scene  was 
idyllic,  with  a  kind  of  unreality  about  it  that  made 
you  wonder  whether  you  had  not  been  already  trans- 
lated. Crossed  the  river  and  walked  up  through  the 
Tuilieries  Gardens,  where  the  children's  sailboats 
were  all  becalmed  on  the  great  round  ponds,  just  the 
way  and  at  just  the  hour  we  get  becalmed  at  Cotuit. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  BOMBED  LAST  NIGHT, 
BOMBED  THE  NIGHT  BEFORE' 

January  31 
As  it  will  all  be  in  the  paper  in  glowing  terms,  I  might 
as  well  give  you  my  account  of  the  taste  of  bomb- 
dropping  we  got  last  night.  I  was  waked  up,  to  my  dis- 
gust, by  the  siren  of  alarm,  but  as  we  have  heard  it 
many  a  time,  I  went  at  once  to  sleep  again,  and  was 
again  roused  from  deep  sleep  by  a  voice  saying  over 
and  over  in  my  ear,  "Les  Gothas  sont  1^,  Elisabeth; 
faut  descendre  a  la  cave."  It  was  too  cruel.  I  had 
a  dim  feeling  that  this  was  no  time  to  argue,  so  I 
dressed  almost  completely,  vaguely  trying  to  remem- 
ber whether  this  was  like  a  fire  and  you  tried  to  save 
things,  and  finally  did  put  on  my  best  suit  and  Cousin 
Ida's  leather  jacket  and  my  hat  and  new  watch, 
and  straggled  out  into  the  dining-room  —  to  find,  of 
course,  every  one  else  in  wrappers  and  coats  and 
boudoir  caps.  I  also  found  that  Madame  Henri 
thought  it  ridiculous  to  go  down  cellar,  and,  indeed, 
Suzanne  and  the  children  came  back  after  they  had 
gone  halfway  down.  So  then  I  took  off  half  my  things 
and  went  back  to  bed.  By  that  time  I  was  awake 
enough  to  hear  the  noises,  but  had  no  idea  they  were 
so  near  —  they  might  have  been  anywhere.  There 
was  a  dull  boom  regularly,  which  turned  out  to  be  the 
anti-aircraft  guns;  then,  also  quite  regularly,  but  in 


132  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

groups,  something  like  loud  claps  of  thunder,  which  it 
seems  was  the  forty  bombs,  and  then  once  a  series  like 
pistol  shots,  which  they  say  were  pistol  shots  from  a 
duel.  It  never  occurred  to  me  it  was  actually  in  Paris, 
but  the  next  morning  on  my  way  in  town  I  passed  a 
house  with  the  two  upper  stories  entirely  demolished. 
That  gave  me  quite  a  different  feeling  about  going 
down  cellar  —  till  I  heard  that  this  bomb  had 
slanted  down  through  part  of  that  house  into  the 
cellar  of  the  next,  and  then  there  did  n't  seem  to  be 
much  to  choose.  S.  claims  that  the  centre  of  a  broad 
street,  as  far  as  possible  from  collapsing  walls,  etc.,  is 
far  safer  than  a  house.  So  there  you  are.  I  guess  the 
answer  is,  if  you're  hit  you're  hit,  and  if  you're  not, 
you're  not.  A  French  plane  came  down,  apparently 
trying  to  land,  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  was 
certainly  a  complete  wreck.  One  of  the  men  photo- 
graphed it  to-day  and  showed  me  the  print  —  says  he 
will  give  me  one. 

It  is  now  quarter-past  twelve,  which  is  later  than 
the  performance  last  night,  so  I  guess  we'll  not  have 
one.  One  of  the  men  picked  up  a  tiny  little  German 
bomb  which  had  struck  a  soft  spot  and  had  not  ex- 
ploded. 

To-day  Petit  and  Michel  came  down  to  lunch  with 
me.  Petit  has  suddenly  been  evacuated  to-day  for 
Lyons,  which  is  near  his  home.  So  we  have  said  a  ten- 
der farewell  and  I  have  promised  to  go  there  on  my 
way  home. 

Good-night;  it  is  late.  I  worked  to-night,  but  do 
not  imagine  that  is  tiring  —  quite  the  reverse,  the 


PARIS  BOMBED  133 

atmosphere  is  so  festive  there  in  the  evening.  At  six 
o'clock  I  was  tired  and  rather  blue;  at  eleven  I  felt  as 
fresh  as  a  daisy  and  gay  as  a  grasshopper. 

Febrtmry  5 
To-day  I  worked  till  about  eight  on  something  for 
Dana.  It  is  a  joy  to  work  for  him,  for  he  dictates 
slowly  and  uses  English  that  is  both  correct  and  elo- 
quent; when  you  write  it  out  you  can  just  rattle 
ahead  as  fast  as  your  fingers  can  go. 

We  have  all  changed  rooms  again.  At  present 
Doris  and  I  are  alone  in  our  glory  in  a  large,  empty 
room,  which  is  quite  a  relief.  We  have  plenty  of  visi- 
tors to  keep  us  from  getting  bored  and  yet  some 
peace  and  quiet.  I  make  the  poor  child  let  me  keep 
one  big  French  window  wide  open  all  the  time,  so  we 
are  as  snug  as  a  T.B.  ward.  By  to-morrow  Colonel  D. 
will  have  returned  from  a  little  trip  to  our  Head- 
quarters, and  then  I  expect  we  shall  learn  whether  the 
C.A.S.  has  been  able  to  fix  it  up  wuth  J.  J.  P.  for  us 
to  stay  in  Paris.  I  shall  be  furious  if  I  have  to  leave 
just  when  spring  is  coming  and  when  I  am  moving  in 
town  to  be  near  my  work  and  other  distractions. 

I  tell  you  frankly  je  commence  k  languir.  For  six 
months  I  was  all  right  except  for  very  rare  days,  but 
for  a  month  now  I  have  felt  the  call  of  home  strongly. 
.  .  .  But  I  could  n't  bear  to  leave  everything  still  going 
on  here;  I  've  got  to  wait  and  see  the  thing  out  —  see 
how  all  our  plans  materialize.  So  I  guess  I  'm  here  till 
the  end.  There  are  always  those  who  think  the  end 
will  be  in  a  few  months. 


134  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

To-morrow  night  we  are  going  to  Mrs.  Dodd's  for 
tea  and  she  is  going  to  give  us  hot  corn-cake  and  but- 
ter! Ingredients  provided  by  P.  Drinker. 

Colonel  G.  came  up  the  other  day  and  bade  us  a 
final  farewell.  He  has  gone  to  G.H.Q.  as  a  member  of 
the  General  Staff.  So  that  chapter  is  finished,  and  I 
can  say  without  hesitation  that  it  (meaning  by  it  the 
little  office  I  first  came  to)  was  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting experiences  of  my  long  life.  I  begin  to  suspect 
it  was  quite  as  much  R.  D.  S.  as  E.  S.  G.  that  made 
it  so.  D.  has  got  an  extraordinary  brain;  I  think  that 
sometime  in  the  next  few  months  I'll  get  into  his 
office. 

February  12 
Kenneth  has  really  left  Aviation  and  goes  to  the 
Artillery  School  at  Fontainebleau  Saturday. 

Well,  as  you  will  have  gathered  from  my  wedding- 
day  cable  Mary  L.  and  I  have  taken  a  room  together, 
and  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  live  harmoniously. 
I  think  we  shall,  although  we  apparently  differ  on 
almost  every  detail  of  our  mode  of  life — she  pre- 
ferring the  stable  and  more  conventional  and  I  the 
easier  and  more  entertaining.  But  we  can  each  do  as 
she  wishes.  Address  is  18  rue  du  Cirque.  It  is  where 
Cousin  Richard  lives  —  a  sort  of  cross  between  pen- 
sion and  hotel. 

February  17 
Just  back  from  "Tosca."  When  we  got  out  every 
one  was  running,  and  behold  there  was  a  raid  on. 


PARIS  BOMBED  135 

You  don't  know  how  pretty  the  French  planes  are  — 
great  yellow  "flying  stars,"  or  yellow  with  two  tiny 
red  tips,  or  just  the  two  red  tips  alone,  sailing  through 
the  moonlit  starry  heavens.  The  red  ones  are  the  tiny 
lights  on  the  wing  tips.  We  went  for  the  Metro  and 
stood  at  the  entrance,  in  the  Place  de  I'Op^ra,  watch- 
ing the  planes  and  the  silvery  flashes  of  shrapnel  from 
the  anti-aircraft  guns,  and  listening  to  words  of  com- 
fort from  strange  Australians.  The  Australians  are 
certainly  attractive  —  so  very  big  and  clean-cut  and 
often  handsome,  with  genial  faces;  they  are  about 
the  most  attractive  set  here.  Well,  the  anti-aircraft 
guns  boomed  away;  after  a  while  we  went  into  the 
Metro  (which  did  n't  marche,  of  course)  and  waited 
till  we  got  sick  of  it,  and  by  the  time  we  had  fought 
our  way  out  the  raid  was  over.  No  bombs  were 
dropped  (so  far  as  I  heard)  while  we  were  outside,  but 
I  thought  I  heard  three  while  we  were  in  the  Metro. 

I  don't  know  whether  or  not  I  have  hitherto  suc- 
cessfully camouflaged  the  fact  that  I  was  witnessing 
a  drama  of  the  heart.  At  all  events,  on  Friday  came 
the  official  betrothal  of  Kenneth  and  Pirie,  a  French 
girl  of  whom  I  have  certainly  written.  She  is  a  very 
nice  child  and  the  two  seem  devoted  to  each  other. 
Kenneth  has  been  at  Fontainebleau  about  four  days 
and  misses  her  fearfully,  naturally.  He  is  so  young! 

February  20 
Mary  and  I  are  quite  respectably  settled  in  a  good- 
sized  room  with  an  open  fireplace  where  we  are  going 
to  have  a  fire  to-night  when  Louisa  and  Nora  come  to 


136  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

dinner.  Cousin  Richard  and  Dr.  Wright  have  the 
room  over  ours  and  R.  C.  C.'s  secretary  and  a  clinic 
worker  have  the  one  over  that.  They  four  have  a  fire 
in  one  of  the  rooms  every  night  and  read  aloud  and  at 
ten  o'clock  have  tea.  I  went  up  for  tea  the  other  night 
when  Mary  was  out  for  the  evening. 

Yesterday  I  rode  way  over  the  city  on  M.'s  bicycle 
to  see  Dana  Skinner,  who  has  been  having  an  opera- 
tion, and  back  again  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  hire  a  bicycle. 

Yesterday  I  said  farewell  to  Kenneth,  which  cost 
me  a  pang.  He  has  grown  a  good  deal  older  in  these 
past  weeks  of  experience.  He  is  now  a  second-class 
private  in  the  French  Army,  enrolled  in  the  Legion 
Etrangere.  The  course  at  Fontainebleau  will  take 
three  months  or  more  and  we  will  hope  for  the  beauti- 
ful impossible  by  that  time.  I  do  like  Pirie  very  much ; 
she  is  a  jeune  personne  tres  s^rieuse  in  spite  of  great 
gayety  and  fetching  ways. 

...  As  for  food,  I  am  sure  you  are  abstaining  more 
than  we.  On  the  other  hand,  there  must  be  something 
wrong  with  our  food  here,  for  we  want  to  eat  all  the 
time  and  discuss  meals  past  and  meals  to  come  all  the 
rest  of  the  time.  Here  is  a  very  slightly  exaggerated 
day:  7.15,  breakfast;  8.45,  prepare  Kenneth's  lunch; 
II,  eat  Kenneth's  lunch;  12,  a  little  chocolate;  some- 
time during  the  morning,  Lieutenant  B.  sends  an 
orderly  to  Quartermaster  for  cornmeal,  etc.,  and  has 
the  stuff  taken  to  Mrs.  Dodd's;  1.30,  lunch,  including 
shredded  wheat  left  to  us  as  a  legacy;  4,  a  little  tea; 
6,  Mrs.  Dodd's,  where  we  have  corn-cake  and  more 


PARIS  BOMBED  137 

tea;  7.30,  dinner;  back  to  the  office,  and  at  10,  while 
waiting  for  the  Colonel,  Mac  and  I  (by  way  of  a  ter- 
rific spree  —  which  it  is,  on  account  of  the  liquid)  re- 
tire to  the  pantry  and  eat  puffed  rice  and  milk;  12, 
Mary  and  I  sit  down  opposite  each  other  and  sol- 
emnly discuss  the  pressed  duck  we  had  at  dinner, 
eating  a  bit  of  Dot  chocolate  the  while.  You  certainly 
would  be  disgusted  at  us.  The  feeling  comes  in 
waves,  and  for  me  this  present  wave  reached  its 
height  yesterday  in  a  birthday  tea  in  S.'s  office  —  he 
himself  absent  in  the  hospital,  but  his  secretary  and 
three  junior  liaison  officers  present.  I  had  three  birth- 
day parties,  the  best  of  them  being  night  before  last 
when  I  took  George  J.  out  to  dinner  and  then  we  went 
home  and  joined  Mary  in  front  of  our  open  fire, 
where  we  had  coffee  and  then  cakes  and  strawberry 
cordial  contributed  by  George.  I  never  saw  George 
looking  so  well  and  strong.  He  is  an  honorary  chas- 
seur and  wears  the  dark-blue  b^ret  and  also  a  Croix 
de  Guerre  fouragere,  his  section  being  the  only  one 
that  can. 

My  poor  Father,  I  want  to  break  it  to  you  gently 
that  I  shall  never  do  the  glorious  deeds  you  would 
like  me  to.  I  shall  be  fond  of  my  family  and  friends 
and  try  to  make  life  pleasant  for  them,  but  as  to  re- 
forming or  even  informing  the  world,  I'm  afraid  I 
have  n't  it  in  me.  And  it  is  true  here  and  now,  too ;  if 
any  one  says  to  me  in  years  to  come,  "WTiat  did  you 
do  in  the  Great  War?"  I  shall  say,  "I  fed  Kenneth 
Gaston  when  he  was  losing  weight "  —  and  let  it  go  at 
that.  I  know  I  'm  an  awful  disappointment  to  you, 


138  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

but  it  can't  be  helped.  I  really  can't  come  back  and 
rehabilitate  France.  .  .  . 

This  is  Sunday  morning  and  I  am  on  call  in  the 
office,  but  as  you  see  I  have  not  an  enormous  amount 
to  do.  I  did,  however,  take  notes  on  a  conference  be- 
tween three  of  our  men  and  three  Frenchmen.  The 
French  certainly  look  well-set-up  in  their  black  uni- 
forms with  gold  braid  and  gold  buttons  and  a  broad 
red  strip  down  the  trouser  leg,  and  soft  laced  boots  to 
the  knee. 

The  Champs  Elys6es  at  night  is  fascinating,  for  all 
the  street  lights  are  green  and  the  bicycles,  tip-carts 
and  so  forth  carry  red  Jap  lanterns;  the  ordinary 
taxi  lights  look  almost  orange. 

February  25 
I  started  out  this  morning  feeling  very  down  on 
my  luck,  walked  over  to  the  river,  and  the  whole 
world  changed  like  a  flash.  This  is  another  of  the  ex- 
quisite, radiant  days  we  had  a  month  ago  —  the  first 
since  then  —  and  gives  me  the  same  thrill.  On  a  day 
like  this  I  could  joyfully  stay  in  Paris  forever.  I  am 
now  out  on  the  balcony  in  the  glorious  sun,  and  if  you 
were  all  with  me  I  should  be  perfectly  happy. 

Don't  delude  yourself  into  thinking  I  am  doing  any 
administrative  work.  I  am  doing  just  straight  stenog- 
raphy. 

Anyhow,  it's  a  glorious  day.  I  walked  down  low  by 
the  river  and  watched  them  screening  the  yellow 
sand  and  building  concrete  boats,  and  saw  the  barges 
going  by  getting  their  decks  washed  off  by  the  barge- 


PARIS  BOMBED  139 

men.  Eiffel  Tower  just  visible  on  the  left  bank  and 
the  turrets  of  the  Trocadero  on  the  right. 

February  26 
I  have  just  finished  a  lovely  birthday  party  in  al- 
most every  room  of  the  cinquieme  etage,  with  that 
delicious,  galumptious  chocolate  cake !  First  the  Colo- 
nel got  a  couple  of  pieces  which  he  ate  in  the  hall  on 
his  way  down  to  see  the  General ;  then  the  other  two 
girls  and  a  stray  visitor  in  my  room;  then  down  to 
S.'s  room,  where  he  and  two  secretaries  and  a  very 
nice  Mr.  Baldwin,  whom  I  call  Grandfather  because 
he  is  almost  as  old  as  I,  and  Mr.  Gouverneur  Pauld- 
ing, a  Brookline  boy,  who  said  it  was  just  like  going 
to  a  coming-out  tea  in  Boston,  and  Mr.  Morton,  a 
Florentine  American  of  twenty-one  years,  S.,  and  I 
had  lots  with  our  tea;  then  down  the  hall  to  where 
Sylvia  is  —  she  has  never  been  to  America,  but  knows 
so  much  about  Boston  that  when  I  said  the  cake 
was  n't  home-made  she  said  at  once,  "Union,  I  sup- 
pose, then"  —  and  Mr.  Guillaume,  a  very  nice  Swiss 
interpreter;  then  Pirie  and  a  Miss  Faive  and  Kathryn 
D.  from  the  file  room,  and  finally  Mary,  who  had  her 
piece  and  also  licked  all  the  frosting  off  the  paper.  So 
you  see  it  did  a  good  job.  Every  one  who  did  n't  come 
from  Boston  said  they  had  never  tasted  a  cake  so 
good,  and  those  who  did  ate  it  with  a  sentimental  ex- 
pression quite  up  to  standard.  It  really  is  in  an  en- 
tirely different  class  from  any  cake  you  can  possibly 
get  here  any^vhere,  at  any  price.  Thank  you  very 
much. 


140  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

March  i 
How  humorous  and  pleasant  to  think  of  Jamie  as  a 
lieutenant  with  a  mustache!  The  instant  he  gets  his 
uniform  he  must  se  faire  photographic  for  my  benefit. 
Last  night  Pirie  came  to  supper  and  we  had  a 
pleasant  evening  in  front  of  the  fire,  discussing  their 
plans  for  the  future  and  her  past  experiences.  I  like 
her  thoroughly:  she  is  very  sweet  and  fine  and  de- 
voted heart  and  soul  to  Kenneth. 

Here  is  another  "Day  with  the  American  Army" 

—  it  was  yesterday:  8.50,  met  the  Colonel  going  out 
as  I  came  in  —  on  his  way  to  Versailles  and  Chartres 
for  the  day;  9-9.20,  copied  two  telegrams;  9.20,  set- 
tled myself  in  the  Colonel's  office,  wrote  a  couple  of 
letters,  and  read  "A  Student  at  Arms"  that  J.  gave 
me  at  Christmas  —  I  found  it  immensely  interesting; 
1. 1 5,  Michel  came  and  we  had  a  long  lunch  together 

—  he  is  going  back  to  "I'Americain"  for  an  "opera- 
tion quelconque"  on  his  leg;  2.45,  settled  myself  again 
in  the  Colonel's  room  and  finished  "A  Student  at 
Arms."  Commander  S.  and  Commander  G.  came  in, 
and  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  Colonel  the 
former  told  various  amusing  stories  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war,  —  told  them  very  well,  in  his  weird 
English  accent.  I  then  had  tea  with  Sylvia  and  others 

—  a  real  feast  this  time,  for  her  chief  came  into  the 
pantry  and  presented  us  with  a  box  of  chocolates. 
Came  back  and  read  a  bit  more.  About  six  Major  B. 
came  in  to  wait  for  the  Colonel,  and  from  then  on 
till  half-past  seven  he  recounted  the  story  of  his  life, 
and  that  is  always  interesting.  Went  home  to  dinner; 


PARIS  BOMBED  141 

telephoned  to  the  office  at  nine  and  at  ten  to  see 
if  the  Colonel  had  come  back  and  wanted  me  —  he 
hadn't.  Bed;  end.  Oh,  it's  an  arduous  Hfe.  I  will  say, 
however,  that  a  day  or  two  later  I  worked  from  ten  at 
night  to  one  in  the  morning. 

My  grapenuts  come  regularly  and  give  me  a  deli- 
cious breakfast  instead  of  a  horrid  one  —  especially 
now  when  restaurants,  pensions,  etc.,  are  not  allowed 
to  serve  butter. 

191  Rue  de  VUniversitS 
March  4 

What  will  you  say  when  you  hear  we  are  moving 
again?  Mary  felt,  and  I  have  no  doubt  rightly,  that 
it  was  very  stupid  of  us  to  be  living  in  a  pension  that 
was  practically  a  hotel  for  Americans.  This  is  a  place 
where  Dorothea  and  her  mother  and  the  Cottons 
have  stayed  at  various  times,  and  was  also  recom- 
mended to  Mary  by  her  friend  the  Marquise  de  Viv- 
ier  at  Bordeaux.  There  are  quite  a  lot  of  people  living 
here,  men  and  women,  all  French  except  Miss  Eloise 
Derby,  and  as  it  is  supposed  to  be  an  ultra-select 
place  we  may  make  some  entertaining  acquaintances. 
We  have  two  nice  little  rooms,  in  the  least  attractive 
of  which  we  are  going  to  sleep  and  keep  the  other  for  a 
sitting-room;  they  are  prettily  furnished,  with  chintz 
coverings  instead  of  plush. 

Yesterday,  Sunday,  we  had  a  most  excellent  day. 
We  took  the  train  to  Meudon-Val-Fleury  and  then 
walked  up  a  little  village  street  into  the  woods.  It  was 
misting  slightly  and  had  snowed  about  two  inches; 


142  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

everything  was  slush  and  mud,  but  the  woods  were 
lovely.  We  left  the  road  and  went  straight  uphill  to  a 
little  promontory  where  you  could  sit  on  a  slush- 
covered  rock  and  look  off  over  a  wooded  valley  and 
little  hills.  The  trees  were  all  laden  with  snow,  and  the 
sky  was  rather  a  lovely  yellowish  color  round  the 
horizon.  Coming  down  into  the  valley  again  we  found 
a  darling  little  dark-gray  pond.  Then  we  proceeded 
through  the  woods  until  we  met  a  little  encampment 
of  soldiers  and  decided  we  had  better  go  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  which  we  did,  followed  by  shouts 
and  hoots,  until  we  got  round  a  corner,  when  we  ran 
just  as  hard  as  we  possibly  could,  downhill,  slipping 
and  falling.  Of  course  they  did  n't  follow  us,  and  I 
still  believe  we  should  have  gone  calmly  on  our  way ; 
however.  Thence  we  went  back  to  a  village  and  I 
went  into  a  hospital  and  paid  a  short  call  on  two 
anciens  blesses.  We  wandered  round  and  finally 
mounted  high  on  the  hill  again,  this  time  on  an  enor- 
mously high-walled  terrasse,  falling  off  at  one  end  to  a 
beautiful  formal  garden  over  which  you  looked  to 
distant  wooded  hills  —  chateau  at  the  right,  dating 
back  some  way  and  then  demolished  and  rebuilt  by 
Louis  XIV;  now  used  as  an  observatory  and  wireless 
station.  All  round  the  chateau  were  great  bushes  of 
something  like  rhododendrons,  only  with  bigger, 
shiny  leaves  —  very  beautiful.  Lots  of  other  flower- 
ing bushes  and  a  magnificent  old  cedar,  reminding  me 
of  a  certain  spot  in  the  Ruffoli  garden  at  Ravello. 

And  I  do  wish  you  were  here  to-day  to  bask  in  the 
sunshine!  It  is  a  perfect  summer  day.  At  lunch-time 


PARIS  BOMBED  143 

Mary  and  I  each  took  a  slab  of  cheese  and  a  little  bag 
of  figs  and  walked  down  along  the  river  to  the  Quai 
aux  Fleurs,  near  Notre  Dame  —  it  really  is  too  en- 
chanting :  the  whole  sidewalk  for  about  a  block  is  laid 
out  just  like  a  flower  garden  —  solid  flowers  and  little 
new  plants  of  every  sort ;  about  every  fifteen  feet  the 
gardens  are  separated  by  a  clump  of  trees,  shrubs, 
vines,  etc.,  their  roots  very  inadequately  packed  in 
burlaps.  I  made  up  a  lovely  box  to  put  on  the  balcony 
outside  the  office  —  right  by  my  desk,  almost :  two  or 
three  yellow  primrose  plants,  a  whitish  one,  a  dark 
crimson  one,  two  violet  plants,  two  purple  and  one 
cherry-colored  Roman  anemone,  and  two  English 
daisies  with  flowers  an  inch  and  a  half  across.  My 
arms  are  so  tired  from  carrying  it  even  a  few  blocks 
from  the  car  that  I  can  hardly  write. 

March  8 
{Evening,  at  the  office.) 

It's  a  funny  thing  about  being  afraid  of  raids — ■ 
theoretically  I  am,  but  practically  I'm  not.  There's 
one  going  on  at  this  moment.  I  have  been  out  on  the 
balcony  for  the  last  hour  with  half  a  dozen  youths. 
Quite  near  the  beginning  I  actually  saw  a  bomb  —  it 
was  right  down  the  street,  apparently,  though  doubt- 
less a  good  way  off,  and  it  looked  like  a  small  sun  on  a 
foggy  day  —  a  round  orange  ball.  The  others  I  heard 
and  saw  the  flare  from,  but  nothing  more.  After  about 
an  hour  it  all  quieted  down,  but  now  the  bombs  seem 
to  be  dropping  thick  and  fast.  We  are  in  an  inner 
room,  where  on  sufferance  we  can  have  a  light,  and  I 


144  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

am  theoretically  taking  dictation  from  the  Colonel. 
Mac  has  just  gone  out  to  see  if  there's  anything 
worth  looking  at  from  the  balcony  —  there  is  n't. 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it,  Mary  takes  a  more  in- 
telligent interest  in  the  war  than  I  do  —  so  I  ought  to 
learn  something.  She  knows  a  good  deal  of  French 
history,  too,  and  I  think  under  her  influence  I  may 
read  "A  Tale  of  Two  Cities"  and  either  Carlyle's  or 
Belloc's  "  French  Revolution"  —  probably  the  latter. 

They  do  keep  this  raid  up  in  the  most  tedious  way. 
It  is  now  two  and  a  half  hours  or  more  since  they 
started.  The  alerte  sounded  just  after  I  had  started  to 
come  over  here.  I  am  glad  I  continued  to  come,  for 
apart  from  the  fact  that  I  was  due  to  work  it  is  much 
more  social  here  than  alone  in  the  boarding-house  — 
Mary  being  out. 

Raid  called  off  just  three  hours  after  it  began. 

Sunday,  March  lO 
Yesterday  was  the  most  glorious,  golden  day  imag- 
inable —  a  baking  sun  —  the  kind  of  day  when  you 
simply  must  lie  on  the  grass,  so  we  did.  Mary  had  to 
work  in  the  morning,  and  I  unpacked  and  then  went 
to  church.  We  met  after  lunch  and  took  a  car  out 
to  Malmaison  —  which  she  insisted  on  our  going 
through.  Then  we  went  up  through  the  Fondation 
Cognac,  an  ex-convent  —  not  so  "ex"  but  what  there 
was  a  nun  walking  up  and  down  the  walled  alley. 
We  cared  nought  for  her,  however,  but  climbed  the 
wall  and  dropped  down  the  other  side  into  a  ploughed 
field  on  top  of  a  hill  from  which  you  could  see  every- 


PARIS  BOMBED  145 

thing  in  the  world  bathed  in  sunlight.  There  were 
various  other  grassy  hills,  very  steep,  with  deep  little 
valleys  between  them,  with  strips  of  ploughed  field  in 
rays  down  the  hillside,  alternating  with  rays  of  apple 
trees  —  the  very  tops  of  the  hills  wooded.  We  lay  on 
a  bank  in  the  sun  for  some  time,  then  spotted  the 
Eiffel  Tower  afar  and  decided  to  make  for  it  in  a  bee- 
line,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  well  that  plan  suc- 
ceeded. For  almost  an  hour  it  led  us  across  hilltop 
pastures  between  apple,  pear,  and  peach  orchards, 
and  vegetable  gardens  with  currant  and  gooseberry 
bushes.  A  little  later  in  the  season  it  will  be  truly 
ravissant.  We  are  going  to  take  C.  Morse  out  there 
for  a  picnic  next  Sunday.  Of  course  we  got  in  late  and 
had  to  take  cars  and  taxis  to  reach  the  Eiffel  Tower 
and  eat  our  supper  in  a  cab,  in  order  to  get  to  the 
theatre  in  time.  The  show  was  "M.  Alphonse,"  by  A. 
Dumas,  and  was  exceedingly  well  acted.  I  had  read 
it  beforehand,  so  I  could  understand  as  well  as  if  it 
were  in  English. 

We  certainly  have  fallen  on  our  feet  this  time  in 
the  way  of  a  living  place.  There  are  about  twenty-five 
people  of  every  age  from  four  to  seventy,  lots  of  old 
ladies  —  all  of  them  countesses  and  marquises  — 
men  and  girls  and  one  or  two  young  boys.  They  all 
talk  very  vivaciously  at  dinner-time  and  know  each 
other  very  well,  most  of  them  having  lived  there  a 
year  or  so.  Several  of  them  are  refugies  of  Belgium, 
Soissons,  etc.  I  talked  with  one  little  Belgian  count- 
ess, and  the  first  thing  she  wanted  to  know  was 
whether  I  had  ever  read  "Four  Days,"  by  Hetty 


146  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Hemenway !  So  I  showed  her  the  picture  of  Hope  and 
the  children  and  that  was  very  exciting.  Well,  the 
next  thing  she  wanted  to  know  was  if  I  had  ever  read 
the  "Wild  Olive"  —  and  that,  you  know,  is  all  in  the 
region  of  Westport  and  Giant.  So  I  told  her  that. 
Was  n't  that  curious?  I  think  it  will  be  good  fun 
hearing  them  all  talk.  The  food  is  simply  delicious 
and  passed  round  in  big  dishes  as  many  times  as  you 
like  —  and  unlimited  sweet  cider.  The  only  real  flaw 
so  far  discovered  is  that  the  water  runs  out  of  the  tub 
so  slowly  as  to  make  it  almost  impossible  for  two  peo- 
ple to  take  a  bath  the  same  day. 

I  am  getting  awfully  tired  of  these  air  raids!  If  I 
work  late  twice  a  week  and  amuse  myself  twice  a 
week  and  have  raids  all  the  other  nights  I  shall  never 
get  any  sleep.  C.  Morse  seems  to  be  our  allotted  com- 
panion for  such  occasions  —  the  last  raid  he  was  with 
Mary  and  they  sat  for  hours  on  the  subway  platform 
with  their  legs  dangling  over  the  edge,  and  this  time 
he  had  just  come  to  call  when  the  alerte  came.  We 
sat  in  our  "salon"  for  an  hour  or  more  and  made 
cocoa,  and  then  when  two  bombs  were  dropped  that 
really  sounded  as  if  they  were  in  our  street  (they 
were  n't),  we  went  down  to  the  cave  where  many  of 
the  others  were.  They  say,  however,  that  the  second 
floor,  where  we  are,  is  the  very  best  place,  for  a  bomb 
striking  the  top  of  the  house  does  not  usually  get 
as  low  as  that,  and  a  bomb  going  off  in  the  court 
or  street  does  n't  go  as  high.  Mary  thinks  under 
a  bridge  would  be  good,  but  I  don't  know  that  it 
would  be  worth  while  to  get  pneumonia.  It  certainly 


PARIS  BOMBED  147 

gives  you  a  queer  feeling  to  sit  conversing  in  front 
of  the  fire  awaiting  your  own  special  bomb.  I  sup- 
pose we  shall  do  the  same  to-night  —  botheration 
take  them ! 

March  14 
Went  out  to  the  hospital  and  stopped  a  minute  to 
see  a  bless4  I  had  not  seen  since  October,  and  the 
change  was  marvellous.  His  lower  jaw  had  been  shot 
through  from  side  to  side,  with  loss  of  bony  sub- 
stance, so  that  he  had  to  wear  a  rubber  bandage  to 
hold  the  jaw  up,  was  on  the  softest  of  soft  food  and 
could  hardly  make  himself  understood.  One  at  a  time 
they  have  grafted  both  sides,  and  now  he  talks 
perfectly  clearly,  and  yesterday  began  to  eat  all  kinds 
of  food  just  like  any  one  else.  He  is  n't  remarkably 
good-looking,  as  the  two  grafted  places  stick  out 
more  or  less  and  give  him  a  squirrel-like  look,  but  he 
is  n't  in  the  slightest  degree  unpleasant-looking  and 
will  look  much  better  some  time,  I  have  no  doubt. 
The  surgeon  considers  him  a  very  interesting  case 
and  shows  him  off  to  all  visiting  doctors.  I  believe  a 
groove  was  cut  both  sides  of  the  fracture  and  an  inset 
of  bone  slipped  in,  the  bit  of  bone  being  taken  from 
his  leg.  He,  naturally,  is  as  pleased  as  punch  and  has 
been  so  happy  at  the  hospital  that  he  is  in  no  hurry  to 
be  evacuated. 

I  am  sitting  in  front  of  the  most  aesthetic  arrange- 
ment of  flowers  you  ever  sighed  over  —  a  brown  jug 
with  two  nice  little  rudimentary  handles  —  filled 
with  Roman  anemones  in  all  kinds  of  purples  and 


148  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

purply  pinks,  and  then  freesia,  cream  just  tinted  with 
mauve,  as  if  they  were  reflecting  the  others  —  the 
whole  (by  chance)  against  a  coffee-colored  pongee 
background.  Really  about  a  perfect  color  scheme  to 
my  way  of  thinking.  I  have  n't  mentioned  green,  but 
there  is  plenty  in  the  freesia  leaves  and  buds.  Speak- 
ing of  flowers,  coming  through  the  Champs  Elys6es 
to-day  I  found  a  great  bed  of  rhododendrons  in  full 
blossom  —  clear  light  rose-color.  Does  n't  that  seem 
incredible  on  March  14th? 

Colonel  G.  has  pneumonia  at  G.H.Q.  We  sent  him 
some  flowers  the  other  day  and  Colonel  D.  wrote  a 
verse  to  go  with  them,  on  the  way  up  and  down  stairs 
from  one  conference  to  another.  Colonel  D.  is  a  great 
worker,  but  never  allows  himself  to  get  intense  or 
worried,  not  even  to-day  when  for  two  eternally  long 
minutes  we  thought  all  the  papers  on  our  air  pro- 
gramme for  the  next  three  months  had  been  removed 
from  his  desk  by  alien  hands. 

March  20 
I  don't  know  whether  I  have  mentioned  Jean  de 
Marguenat,  a  count,  an  ex-aviateur  and  our  chauf- 
feur. We  see  a  good  deal  of  him  because  he  waits  up 
in  our  room.  He  is  twenty-one,  tall,  and  very  good- 
looking,  with  the  most  absurdly  expressive  face  that 
ever  was.  He  is  so  different  from  an  American  boy  of 
that  age  in  the  way  he  registers  emotion.  The  other 
day  he  came  in,  in  the  depths  of  gloom,  flung  him- 
self into  a  chair  and  pulled  out  a  paper  for  us  to  see 
which  proved   to  be  his  orders  to   start  that  very 


PARIS  BOMBED  149 

night  to  report  to  his  air  dep5t  at  Lyons.  He  was 
really  tragic  about  it,  and  stamped  up  and  down  the 
room  with  clenched  fists,  muttering  about  the  ways 
of  the  Army.  Half  an  hour  later  the  Colonel  came  out 
and  went  with  him  to  the  Ministere  de  la  Guerre,  got 
it  fixed  up  in  ten  minutes,  and  came  back  —  the  child 
all  beaming  smiles,  shaking  every  one's  hand  and  pos- 
itively jumping  over  the  chairs  in  excitement.  Oh, 
these  French! 

I  don't  know  where  my  recital  of  facts  stopped. 
Sunday  Mary  and  C.  Morse  and  I  went  out  and 
lunched  on  the  grassy  pasture  hilltop  over  Malmai- 
son.  After  lunch  I  strolled  partway  down  the  hill  to 
call  on  Michel  who  was  back  in  bed  again.  I  went 
sneakered  and  hatless,  which  made  me  feel  very 
much  at  home.  I  wandered  into  the  empty  hospital 
and  peeked  round  till  I  found  Michel,  who  was 
pleased  and  surprised  to  see  me.  I  had  a  very  nice  call 
on  him.  A  Sister  came  in,  all  in  black  with  veil,  etc., 
and  her  skirt  tucked  up,  carrying  a  mop  and  scrub- 
bing-pail  —  it  seemed  such  a  quaint  costume  for  the 
housemaid. 

March  25 
You  are  just  having  your  worst  weather  now,  I 
imagine,  and  here  we  are  having  cloudless  days  al- 
most as  warm  as  summer.  The  "Dambosch"  seem  to 
find  them  perfect  days,  too,  for  the  following  has  been 
our  schedule:  Friday  (March  22),  alerte  at  nine  in  the 
evening  —  call-off  at  about  ten  and  nothing  doing. 
Saturday,  alerte  at  nine  in  the  morning  —  no  bombs, 


150  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

but  a  coup  de  canon  about  every  twenty  minutes, 
which  proved  to  be  (as  you  will  have  read)  the  great 
240  cannon  firing  from  over  seventy  miles  away  and 
dropping  shells  as  neatly  as  you  could  wish.  This 
kept  up  till  six  (making  it  very  inconvenient,  as  they 
stopped  the  Metro  trams,  etc.  I  almost  missed  my 
train).  At  nine  came  another  air  raid  alerte,  but  it 
amounted  to  nothing  and  was  called  off  at  ten.  The 
next  morning  at  seven  the  cannon  began  again  and 
continued  till  about  three.  An  air  raid  was  sounded 
at  one  o'clock  at  night  (the  French  putting  up  a 
barrage,  so  it  sounded  as  if  it  were  going  to  amount 
to  something)  and  called  off  about  two.  This  morn- 
ing the  cannon  started  at  quarter  of  seven,  but  only 
fired  four  times  —  I  don't  know  why.  The  Germans 
certainly  are  smarter  than  we  —  they  always  do  it 
first. 

But  the  raid  did  not  prevent  the  river  in  full  moon- 
light from  being  very  lovely,  as  witnessed  by  Mary 
and  C.  Morse  and  me  from  under  the  Pont  de  I'Alma; 
the  arches  are  so  lovely.  We  sat  on  one  steamer  rug 
and  under  another,  leaning  comfortably  against  a  rail 
of  some  sort  and  eating  Page  and  Shaw.  Nor  did 
the  cannonading  prevent  Fontainebleau  from  being 
about  perfect.  I  took  a  noon  train  (having  made  up 
my  mind  to  lose  it  when  I  found  the  Metro  stopped, 
but  finally  getting  a  taxi),  reached  Fontainebleau 
about  two  —  a  heavenly,  warm,  sunny  day.  I  left  my 
bag  and  coat  at  the  hotel  and  wandered  down 
through  the  old  part  of  the  town,  among  the  darling 
little  moss-grown  cottages  and  garden  walls  —  past  a 


PARIS  BOMBED  151 

wash-house  where  apparently  all  the  wash  of  the 
town  was  being  done  in  a  small  swimming-tank  of 
cold  water  —  across  some  fields  and  up  into  the 
woods.  I  looked  in  vain  for  wild  jonquils  and  English 
primroses,  such  as  I  had  seen  in  masses  through  the 
woods  from  the  train  window.  But  I  did  find  violets 
and  anemones,  and  a  wonderful  old  woman  sitting  on  a 
bank  at  a  crossing  of  wood  paths,  knitting  a  white 
stocking  and  watching  her  goat,  which  she  assured  me 
was  very,  very  young  and  yet  was  to  have  a  goatlet 
in  two  weeks  and  had  therefore  to  be  watched  care- 
fully. So  she  spends  all  day  in  the  woods,  knitting  and 
chatting  with  every  one  who  passes.  Yesterday  a  wild 
pig,  bigger  than  her  goat,  came  rushing  past.  She  had 
brought  the  goat  up  since  it  was  six  days  old  and  was 
as  fond  of  it  as  a  baby.  I  lay  down  beside  her  and  she 
talked  a  steady  stream  for  half  an  hour.  It  was  so 
quiet  and  delicious!  There  is  nothing  to  beat  a  baking 
spring  sun. 

Then  I  went  over  to  Kenneth's  caserne  and  met 
him  as  he  came  out  of  class.  My,  it  was  good  to  see 
the  child  again!  We  climbed  a  sharp  little  hill  to  a 
cliff  which  looked  down  on  the  long,  narrow  field, 
where  they  learn  to  shoot.  Some  class  was  practising 
barrage  fire  and  we  could  see  the  flash,  flash,  flash, 
flash,  flash  —  about  as  fast  as  that  —  then  the  five 
bangs  and  way  down  at  the  other  end  of  the  field  five 
little  puffs  of  white  smoke  in  a  row,  where  the  shells 
land.  It  was  an  interesting  sight,  but  I  did  n't  like  it  a 
bit.  It  was  the  reallest  thing  I  have  heard  or  seen  yet 
—  it  kept  on  so  steadily  and  was  so  horribly  precise. 


152  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

So  then  we  came  down  the  hill  and  through  the 
woods  and  the  Chateau  Pare  and  found  a  little  res- 
taurant for  supper,  where  we  were  the  only  people. 
Kenneth  had  to  leave  at  nine  to  get  back  to  the  bar- 
racks, and  I  took  a  car  home  and  went  early  to  bed. 
The  air  was  so  good  —  so  different  from  Paris!  My 
room  opened  on  to  a  grassy  court  with  trees  sur- 
rounded by  an  old  wall,  all  moss-grown,  and  just  the 
other  side  of  that  was  the  Forest,  so  it  was  real  coun- 
try all  right. 

Kenneth  appeared  the  next  morning  and  we  had 
a  delicious  breakfast  in  a  far,  sunny  corner  of  the 
garden,  and  then  went  down  to  meet  Pirie  and  sup- 
posedly Mary  and  C.  M.  —  neither  of  whom  ap- 
peared, however,  —  Mary,  because  the  Metro  was 
stopped  and  he  presumably  because  he  was  on  duty. 
So  I  had  a  morning  alone  in  the  Forest.  I  do  enjoy 
wandering  round  by  myself,  going  hither  and  yon, 
stopping  or  proceeding  at  my  own  sweet  will!  I  saw 
a  ledge  with  big  pine  trees  on  it,  rather  like  William 
James'  Ledges,  and  made  for  that.  It  was  all  it 
should  have  been:  sunny  and  sweet-smelling,  the 
ground  all  soft  with  thick  moss  and  heather,  and  a 
lovely  view  off  over  tree- tops  of  soft  pinky- browns 
and  greens,  with  blue  hills  farther.  Later  I  went 
through  some  beautiful  open  beech  and  holly  woods, 
rather  like  Canaumet,  only  somewhat  bigger  trees  and 
more  cleared  out ;  then  through  some  dull  (except  for 
anemones  as  far  as  you  could  see)  flat  woods,  and 
down  to  the  river  to  a  little  restaurant  where  I  met 
Pirie  and  K.  and  Hayden  Goodspeed  (Harvard  'i6, 


PARIS  BOMBED  153 

A. A.,  Aviation  and  Artillery  School)  for  lunch.  It 
was  about  the  prettiest  place  I  have  ever  been  to  — 
a  little  inn,  with  barns  and  gardens,  all  of  plaster 
and  moss-grown,  an  airy  kitchen  with  old  oak  tables 
with  carved  legs,  and  a  little  terrace  at  the  back,  flush 
with  the  grass  and  only  about  ten  feet  from  the  river ; 
across  the  river  a  great  green  field  and  square  white 
farmhouse  and  woods  behind.  I  never  saw  a  prettier 
scene;  and  here  we  sat  and  ate  fried  fishlets  right 
from  the  river  and  lapins  saut6s,  which  is  the  French 
Sunday  roast  beef,  and  the  sun  shone  and  the  barges 
went  up  and  down  the  river.  It  was  utterly  tranquil. 
After  lunch  Hayden  and  I  left  the  lovers  and  took 
quite  a  long  walk  through  the  Forest  —  along  some 
ridges  that  were  for  all  the  world  like  the  long  top  of 
Colvin ;  got  many  wonderful  views  over  wooded  val- 
leys, and  enjoyed  ourselves  immensely.  When  I  got 
back  to  the  hotel  about  six,  I  found  Mary  had  come 
on  the  later  train,  arriving  at  one!  So  she  was  alone 
all  the  afternoon.  Was  n't  that  a  shame?  She  got  so 
mad  with  the  Huns  for  firing  on  Paris  and  with  the 
Parisians  for  paying  any  attention  to  them  that  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  come  down  anyway.  One  funny 
thing  she  did  was  to  make  friends  with  a  little  boy  at 
the  Chateau  whose  mother  let  her  in  to  the  oldest 
part  of  the  Chateau,  which  is  being  used  as  a  neuro- 
logical hospital,  and  she  knew  all  about  Father!  Mary 
is  going  to  introduce  me  next  time.  She  discovered  a 
beautiful  white  bathtub  at  my  hotel  and  has  decided, 
therefore,  to  spend  many  Sundays  there.  Do  you 
know,  on  the  strength  of  our  "Workers'  Permits" 


154  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

saying  that  we  are  attached  to  the  A.E.F.,  we  get 
quarter  rates  on  trains!  I  went  down  and  back,  sec- 
ond-class, for  two  and  a  half  francs,  an  hour  and  a 
half  each  way. 

March  28 
On  Monday  next  I  start  working  in  Dana's  office. 
He  is  in  charge  of  that  part  of  the  Liaison  Bureau 
which  conducts  the  passage  of  all  Air  Service  affairs 
concerning  the  French  Government,  which  are,  of 
course,  legion.  It  is  finally  as  settled  as  anything  is  in 
the  Army  that  our  part  of  the  Air  Service  will  stay  in 
Paris.  Colonel  D.  is  CO.  of  the  Paris  Branch  —  the 
part  of  Supply  that  is  here,  the  orders  from  the 
French,  etc.,  as  well  as  the  Technical  Section  which, 
however,  has  a  rather  secondary  place  now.  The  de- 
livery of  planes  is  the  chief  thing  now.  This  means, 
primarily,  deciding  what  planes  we  want,  working 
out  terrifically  detailed  lists  of  spare  parts,  equip- 
ment, armament,  etc.,  ordering  the  squadrons  and 
planes.  ...  As  there  are  a  thousand  difficulties  at 
each  step  it  is  some  job. 

...  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  for  my  own  sake 
that  you  are  not  here  during  raids;  it  is  very  quieting 
not  to  have  a  single  person  to  worry  about.  Of  course 
there  will  be  people  at  the  front  later.  ...  As  for 
raids,  statistically  there  is  more  chance  of  being  run 
over  than  hit  by  a  bomb. 

March  29 
No  special  news,  except  that  the  news  from  the 
front  is  better.   We  hope  the   Germans  will  break 


PARIS  BOMBED  155 

themselves   in   this  offensive.  American  Red   Cross 
Military  Hospital  No.  i  is  filling  rapidly. 

April  8 
I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't  written  for  over  a  week.  I 
have  gone  into  Lieutenant  Skinner's  ofhce  and  no 
longer  have  time  to  write  in  ofhce  hours.  I  certainly 
do  enjoy  being  back  again  with  R.  D.  S.  He  is  in 
charge  of  liaison  with  the  French,  as  I  doubtless  told 
you.  I  sit  in  his  ofhce  and  there  are  two  more  liaison 
offices  opening  out  of  it.  Major  Gros  is  the  head;  then 
there  is  Mr.  Baldwin  for  Italian  and  Mr.  Morton  for 
French  (under  Dana) ,  and  at  present  that 's  all  — 
work  with  the  English  going  through  Flight  Com- 
mander Sassoon. 

Yesterday  was  Sunday,  and  Mary,  C.  Morse,  and  I 
went  out  of  town  on  the  trolley,  and  up  on  to  a  high 
orcharded  hill  from  which  you  looked  off  across  won- 
derful blue  distances  way  below  or  at  near-by  hills  and 
orchards  covered  with  blossoming  plum  and  occa- 
sionally a  row  of  pink,  pink  peach.  All  shades  of  green 
in  the  world  were  there,  too  —  just  little  hints  of 
them;  mostly  it  was  blue  and  white  and  pink.  It  was 
a  beautiful  northwest  day,  clouds  racing  over  and 
bright  sun,  except  for  a  couple  of  smart  showers 
which  struck  us  as  we  lay  on  our  backs  after  lunch. 

Saturday  night  C.  Morse  came  in  here  just  back 
from  Noyon  and  all  round  there  —  Blerancourt,  es- 
pecially —  where  he  had  been  evacuating  people  and 
things.  He  certainly  was  feeling  low  about  the  ad- 
vance.   He  said   how  wonderful  the   French  were; 


156  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

what  great  staying  power  they  had.  He  admires  them 
greatly  as  soldiers.  He  is  going  to  the  Artillery  School 
at  Fontainebleau  the  end  of  the  week. 

April  12 
While  I  am  waiting  for  the  morning  meeting  to  be- 
gin I  can  add  a  few  words.  Mary  and  I  alternate  in 
"taking"  the  meetings,  and  they  are  sometimes  very 
amusing.  The  head  or  representative  of  each  depart- 
ment reports  what's  been  doing  in  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours;  about  sixteen  or  twenty  departments.  .  .  . 
The  cannon  has  begun  again  this  afternoon,  after  a 
rest  of  nearly  a  week.  An  obus  came  down  nearer  me 
than  any  has  yet,  though  not  near  enough  to  see.  It 
was  near  the  Ministere  de  la  Guerre  —  at  least  I  was 
and  it  must  have  been.  It  sounds  quite  different  from 
a  bomb,  which  is  like  a  roll  of  thunder  when  you 
think  the  tree  just  outside  your  window  has  been 
struck  —  that  sort  of  tearing  noise.  The  obus  sounds 
as  if  a  huge  drum  had  burst:  quite  a  short,  almost 
musical  sound.  ■ 

April  13 
This  attack  seems  to  have  been  the  final  word  to 
show  every  one  how  fine  a  soldier  the  Frenchman 
makes.  I  have  heard  so  many  people  remark  on  it. 
The  last  was  Bob  Boiling,  who  is  just  back  from  a 
few  days  near  the  front.  He  said  the  French  were  all 
so  perfectly  calm  and  alert,  so  well-set-up  and  so 
clean  in  effect  even  when  they  had  just  come  from  the 
trenches. 


PARIS  BOMBED  157 

Last  night  we  had  a  raid  —  the  first  for  some  time. 
Mary  and  I  started  for  under  the  Pont  de  I'Alma,  but 
heard  men's  voices  and  beat  a  quick  retreat,  though 
they  afterwards  turned  out  to  be  Americans,  who 
gave  us  (we  joined  other  Americans  on  the  bridge) 
some  good  close-harmony  later.  The  raid  was  very 
short  —  three  quarters  of  an  hour  or  less  —  but  the 
two  or  three  bombs  that  were  dropped  did  lots  of 
harm.  Paris  is  so  huge  that  with  all  the  bombs  and 
shells  that  have  come  to  us  in  the  last  month  I  have 
never  been  anywhere  near  one  —  not  nearer  than  a 
seven  or  eight  minutes'  walk.  There  was  a  terrible 
picture  In  the  paper  to-day  of  a  ward  In  a  maternity 
hospital  before  and  after  a  shell  fell  there  a  couple  of 
days  ago  —  horribly  effective. 

To-morrow  is  Sunday  again,  and  Mary  and  I  are 
going  to  try  to  reach  the  battle-field  of  the  Mame.  It 
has  been  in  the  Zone  des  Armies  since  last  July  and 
you  are  supposed  to  have  a  carnet  rouge  and  a  sauf 
conduit  before  you  can  get  a  ticket.  But  we  are  going 
to  make  a  bluff  at  it  and  see  if  we  get  by.  I  have 
learned  why  one  says,  "He  lies  like  a  trooper."  In  the 
Army,  as  far  as  rules  and  that  sort  of  stuff  goes,  you 
do  what  you  want  and  say  what  you  want,  and  if  you 
get  by  it 's  a  glowing  success  and  every  one  says  what 
a  fine,  snappy  person  you  are;  if  you  don't  get  by, 
you  are  court-martialled. 

April  21 
Oh,  I  have  worked  so  hard  this  past  week!  I  love 
doing  it,  but  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  that  I  am 


1^8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

right  tired.  I  went  to  take  Doris's  place  one  after- 
noon, when  she  did  n't  feel  well,  and  came  back  that 
evening  at  ten  and  took  dictation  from  the  Colonel 
till  quarter-past  one.  Then,  of  course,  I  had  all 
those  notes  in  addition  to  my  regular  work  to  finish 
up  in  the  next  couple  of  days. 

I  can't  describe  to  you  how  horrible  the  old  siren  is 
that  sounds  the  alerte  for  raids.  You  hear  it  first  in 
the  distance  —  just  an  ordinary  siren  whistle;  you  sit 
up  in  bed  (mentally,  at  least)  and  curse  the  Germans 
for  breaking  your  sleep,  and  then  perhaps  (as  we  did 
last  night)  decide  to  stay  in  bed.  The  guns  begin 
banging,  but  that  is  all  right.  One  could  go  to  sleep 
again  with  the  guns  and  bombs  banging,  but  not 
with  the  siren.  As  I  said,  you  hear  one  first  —  it  gets 
nearer  and  nearer  and  more  and  more  frantic;  and 
other  sirens  come  nearer  and  nearer  from  other  direc- 
tions, all  whistling  in  slightly  different  keys,  shriek- 
ing and  howling  and  wailing,  till  it  is  like  being  sur- 
rounded by  a  nightmare  mob  of  banshees.  (You  know 
how  the  dear  old  banshees  sound !)  The  whistles  echo 
in  the  narrow  streets  of  our  quarter  and  get  louder 
and  more  intense  till  it  seems  as  if  the  world  would 
burst  with  the  sound.  It  is  a  queer  thing  —  I  still 
claim  that  I  don't  feel  afraid,  and  yet  if  I  am  in  bed 
and  the  siren  comes,  every  tiniest  muscle  in  my  legs 
twitches.  Mary  goes  to  sleep  far  quicker  than  I  under 
it,  and  yet  she  says  she  feels  afraid.  How  do  you  ex- 
plain that?  Am  I  really  afraid  and  don't  like  to  say 
so?  I  don't  think  so. 


PARIS  BOMBED  159 

April  29 

I  am  longing  for  the  time  when  the  rest  of  you 
come  abroad  with  me  and  I  can  show  you  all  the 
spots  I  like  best. 

We  had  about  a  perfect  day  yesterday  with  C 
Morse  at  Fontainebleau.  I  left  Paris  on  the  eight 
o'clock  train  and  was  met  down  there  by  the  other 
two.  We  walked  almost  steadily  from  about  two  till 
five,  eating  lunch  on  a  cliff  with  a  beautiful  extended 
view  —  forest  near  at  hand  and  then  the  fields  and 
farmhouses  on  the  other  side  of  the  Seine.  It  is  the 
most  perfect  season,  for  every  tree  is  its  own  individ- 
ual green  —  the  oaks  just  barely  pinkish,  and  the 
pines  looking  almost  black  by  comparison  with  the 
exquisite  pale  green  of  the  birches.  Lots  of  beeches, 
too,  half  out  —  they  grow  in  such  a  decorative  form 
with  their  delicious,  fuzzy  edges. 

I  picked  lots  and  lots  of  purple  Roman  anemones, 
not  quite  like  the  ones  in  a  florist's,  more  delicate, 
and  they  also  have  a  silky  fuzz  when  they  are  not  full- 
blown. And  those  giant  forget-me-nots  that  grow  in 
the  garden  at  Cotuit.  .  .  .  And  tiny  yellow  primroses, 
more  of  the  Chinese  than  the  English  variety. 

We  had  supper  at  the  little  restaurant  on  the  river. 

When  we  spend  the  day  in  Fontainebleau  we  don't 
get  home  till  ten,  so  you  might  think  it  was  a  long  day; 
but  it  is  lovely  enough  and  tranquil  enough  in  the 
forest  to  make  up  for  it.  And  I  have  about  decided  it 's 
all  buncombe  not  to  do  things  because  they  are  tir- 
ing, or  because  you  are  tired.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
told  you  how  long  hours  I  have  sometimes  worked. 


i6o  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Once,  for  instance,  till  half-past  two,  beginning  at 
half-past  seven  next  morning;  and  quite  often  till 
twelve  or  one  —  several  times  later  —  and  I  have 
had  no  vacation,  have  done  things  in  the  evening 
quite  a  lot,  and  crowded  Sundays  about  as  full  as  I 
could,  and  I  don't  see  that  I  am  any  the  worse  —  ex- 
cept that  I  have  gained  weight.  I  am  no  more  tired 
than  I  was  when  I  worked  half  a  day  at  Radcliffe.  I 
have  had  a  good  many  colds,  but  nothing  bad  enough 
to  go  to  bed  with.  So  there  you  are.  I  shall  never  let 
3^ou  tell  me  I  am  too  tired  to  do  something  again.  If  I 
am  tired  I  will  go  to  the  theatre  in  the  evening;  it's 
the  way,  I  think. 

I  gave  you  a  little  dissertation,  I  think,  on  the  bien 
61ev6e  French  girl,  and  I  will  now  add  one  further 
thought :  in  America,  the  better  the  family  you  come 
from,  and  the  better  educated  and  brr  1  you  are,  the 
more  unconventional  things  you  can  get  away  with; 
here,  the  higher  class  you  are  the  more  you  are 
hemmed  and  bound  in  by  rules  that  it  would  be 
tragic  to  break.  Just  little  rules  of  convention,  I 
mean. 

A  week  ago  Sunday  we  went  to  Meaux  and  drove 
for  hours  over  beautiful  bare  hills  with  the  coldest 
wind  you  ever  felt,  making  ninety  miles  an  hour.  It 
was  a  shame  it  was  so  cold,  for  the  country  was  most 
lovely  if  one  could  have  relaxed  sufficiently  to  see  it; 
but  you  had  to  jam  your  head  down  into  your  collar 
and  keep  it  there,  to  avoid  dying  of  cold.  I  think  I 
was  never  more  chilled  to  the  bone  and  the  train  was 
almost  as  cold  coming  home.  But  I  was  glad  we  went 


PARIS  BOMBED  161 

and  saw  the  dear  little  old-fashioned  trenches  they 
had  there  —  about  a  foot  and  a  half  wide,  neatly 
lined  with  willow  basketry.  The  only  time  we  were 
warm  was  when  we  were  in  the  trenches!  We  drove 
through  three  or  four  little  villages  that  had  been 
shelled,  though  not  badly,  relatively  speaking.  Why 
the  Germans  ever  turned  back  I  can't  imagine.  (I 
neglected  to  state  that  this  was  the  Marne  battle- 
field —  or  at  least  a  battle-field  on  the  Marne,  at  the 
nearest  point  the  Germans  came  to  Paris.  They  call 
it  the  Battle  of  the  Ourcq,  or  something  like  that.) 
It  was  beautiful  country  for  a  battle:  miles  and  miles 
of  rolling  fields.  But  a  miracle  must  have  happened. 
I  don't  wonder  that  after  that  the  French  were  con- 
vinced that  we  would  win  sometime. 

What  fun  it  will  be  to  have  a  picture  of  Jamie  en 
militaire  —  an<^.  think  of  his  returning  salutes  up  and 
down  the  street!  I  hope  he  puts  on  lots  of  side  and 
does  it  with  real  fervor.  The  dramatic  side  of  uniforms 
and  ceremony  is  the  only  advantage  of  them. 

Well,  it  seems  as  if  Pirie  and  Kenneth  were  really 
going  to  get  married  May  i8th;  that  is,  they  will  if 
Kenneth  gets  the  day  off  following  his  graduation 
and  is  not  sent  at  once  to  the  front.  That  is  a  Satur- 
day and  they  will  not  know  till  Monday  of  that  week 
whether  or  not  he  can  get  to  Paris!  If  not,  they  will 
have  to  wait  till  he  gets  his  first  permission  from  the 
front.  I  do  hope  they  won't  have  to,  for  he  might 
never  get  it.  He  will  be  on  the  seventy-fives,  and  that 
is  no  joke,  though,  of  course,  not  as  bad  as  infantry. 
If  he  does  get  the  day  off,  Pirie  and  her  mother  and 


i62  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

sister-in-law,  and  Kenneth  and  Lippy  and  I  will  go 
first  to  the  Mairie  and  have  them  really  married, 
then  to  the  American  church.  And  that  will  be  all! 
Not  a  very  gay  wedding,  but  neither  of  them  cares  a 
straw,  so  I  don't  know  that  it  matters.  They  were 
planning  to  have  more  of  a  festivity,  but  decided  to 
give  it  up. 

May  I 
You  know  the  people  in  this  house  have  been  so 
nice  to  Mary  these  two  days  she  has  been  in  the 
house.  It  about  decided  me  to  stay  there  next  winter, 
if  I  am  still  here,  instead  of  going  to  a  hotel  as  I 
thought  of  doing  on  account  of  there  being  no  chauf- 
fage  central  in  the  house.  Not  that  I  should  plan  to  be 
sick,  you  know,  but  it  would  make  all  the  difference 
if  I  w^ere.  Mademoiselle  Guilhon  is  just  as  nice,  at- 
tractive, and  agreeable  as  she  can  be,  with  an  excel- 
lently kept  house  and  a  care-free,  happy-go-lucky  at- 
titude toward  it.  Never  seems  to  worry,  though  her 
population  changes  almost  daily  and  she  works  hard 
outside  at  an  oeuvre.  Another  of  the  boarders  is  simply 
delightful.  She  is  a  Madame  de  Noblemaire — about 
my  age,  I  should  say.  The  first  couple  of  years  of  the 
war  she  nursed  in  Serbia  and  had  the  time  of  her  life  — 
the  first  time,  I  guess,  that  she  had  led  a  really  free, 
independent  life.  She  is  one  quarter  English,  and  it 
shows  very  markedly  in  her  attitude.  She  was  brought 
up,  I  think,  in  India.    Her  spoken  English  is  fluent 
but  not  very  correct,  and  she  has  certain  phrases 
which  come  out  very  amusingly:  for  instance,  "  Don't 


PARIS  BOMBED  163 

you  think  that  was  horrid?"  She  recounted  to  us  one 
evening  many  tales  of  her  brother,  an  aviator  of  the 
R.F.C.,  who  was  captured  by  the  Germans  in  No- 
vember, 1914,  and  was  prisoner  two  years;  trying 
unsuccessfully  to  escape  once,  being  caught  after 
many  hours  of  flight  through  the  snow,  then  going 
back  to  solitary  confinement  in  a  perfectly  dark  cell 
and  almost  no  food ;  finally  really  escaping  in  a  pack- 
ing-case on  a  freight  train  in  which  he  sat  almost 
without  moving,  all  bent  over  double,  for  three  days 
and  nights,  and  was  finally  unloaded  in  Switzerland. 
All  this  and  more  she  told  us,  and  after  a  particularly 
terrible  detail  she  would  say,  "Don't  you  think  that 
was  horrid?" 

She  also  showed  us  pictures  of  Serbia  and  told  us, 
with  longing  tones,  about  the  difficulties  of  the  work 
there  —  how  there  was  no  water  to  give  the  men  even 
to  drink,  or  how  on  other  occasions  the  roof  leaked  so 
that  a  rainstorm  would  soak  the  patients  to  the  skin ; 
how  they  had  no  conveniences;  how  she  lived  in  a 
tent  in  the  midst  of  this  camp  of  men ;  how  good  they 
all  were  to  her.  And  this  discourse  she  interlarded 
with  "Was  n't  it  a  lovely  life?"  She  really  is  A  No.  i 
and  I  can't  wait  to  get  her  to  America.  She  has  loads 
of  spirit  and  snap  and  sense  of  humor.  The  other 
evening  she  was  in  bed  with  all  the  windows  shut 
and  confessed  that  she  always  slept  so;  then  she 
burst  into  peals  of  laughter  and  said,  "And  all  the 
afternoon  I  write  how  one  must  always  sleep  with  the 
windows  open."  She  is  writing  for  the  Red  Cross, 
educational  pamphlets  for  r6fugies. 


i64  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

May  2 
To-day  I  have  been  with  Mr.  Diman  to  see  a  deco- 
ration at  the  Grand  Palais.  It  was  not  moving  in  the 
same  way  that  the  decoration  I  saw  at  the  Ambulance 
was,  but  it  was  very  beautiful.  It  was  in  a  great  hall 
like  the  Boston  Arena  —  only  very  light  because  of 
the  glass  roof.  We  were  up  in  the  gallery  leaning  over 
the  rail.  All  the  men  to  be  decorated  were  in  a  group 
near  the  door  at  one  side;  opposite  them  the  band 
(who,  it  turns  out,  are  also  soldiers  and  stretcher- 
bearers)  ;  the  two  long  sides  and  farther  end  lined  with 
a  double  row  of  French  Territorials.  Exactly  at  the 
hour  the  General  entered  and  the  band  played  the 
"Marseillaise";  then  he  walked  all  round  the  double 
row  of  Territorials,  saluting  each  company;  the  men 
to  be  decorated  marched  into  the  middle  of  the 
square  —  most  of  them  wounded,  of  course,  many  of 
them  on  crutches,  followed  by  a  man  carrying  a 
chair.  Before  each  group  was  decorated  the  General 
shouted  an  order  to  the  band,  who  gave  a  bugle  call 
with  drums.  First  came  the  officers  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  then  chevaliers  of  the  Legion,  M6dailles  Mili- 
taires,  and  Croix  de  Guerre.  It  was  awfully  well  done 
—  a  good  deal  of  ceremony  and  yet  extremely  simple : 
the  band  playing  off  and  on  at  exactly  the  right 
times  when  it  might  otherwise  have  become  a  little 
monotonous. 

This  is  the  first  sunny  day  for  weeks  and  weeks. 
The  weather  has  favored  Paris  during  this  last  full- 
moon  period. 

Colonel  D.  is  now  Chief  of  Supply  here  in  France; 


PARIS  BOMBED  165 

big  job,  similar  to  Ryan's  in  the  States,  only  compli- 
cated by  the  fact  that  everything  is  done  through 
the  Allies.  A  captain  whom  I  do  not  know  is  Assistant 
to  Chief  of  Supply  and  R.  D.  S.  I  believe  is  to  be  his 
assistant ;  but  of  that  I  will  write  you  more  when  it  is 
really  going. 

Poor  Pirie  and  Kenneth  have  met  another  reverse, 
this  time  in  the  crazy  French  law  which  makes  it 
necessary  all  through  a  woman's  life  that  she  shall 
have  the  consent  of  both  parents,  even  when,  as  in 
this  case  she  does  not  live  with  her  father  and  is  not 
supported  by  him. 

May  7 

The  father  gave  his  consent,  so  that's  all  right. 
Now  it  only  remains  to  be  seen  whether  K.  can  get 
the  day  off.  Pirie  has  had  such  a  nice  letter  from 
Mrs.  G. 

I  have  been  having  the  most  wickedly  joyful  hour 
or  two!  Mary  has  gone  away  for  a  week  and  I  have 
rearranged  all  the  furniture.  To-morrow  I  shall  get  a 
new  table-cover!  The  desk  and  light  are  now  so  re- 
lated to  each  other  that  one  can  write  a  letter  in  the 
evening,  and  as  we  are  almost  never  here  in  the  day- 
time, that  seems  to  me  a  decided  advantage.  And  al- 
though the  room  is  still  too  long  and  narrow,  it  is  not 
as  bad  as  it  was.  She  will  probably  hate  it  and  in  that 
case  will,  of  course,  change  it  back  again. 

Unless  something  unexpected  occurs  you  may  ex- 
pect me  home  before  Christmas. 

Yesterday  Mr.  Diman  and  I  went  up  on  Mont- 


i66  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

martre  for  supper.  We  planned  it  the  day  before, 
when  the  weather  was  exquisite,  and  of  course  it 
clouded  over.  However,  it  was  quite  lovely  and  good 
fun.  W'e  tried  to  sup  at  the  Lapin  Agile,  which  has 
considerable  local  color,  but  you  have  to  command 
your  dinner  in  advance.  There  is  an  old  man  there 
dressed  in  brown  velveteen  with  scarlet,  Byronesque 
necktie  and  white,  flowing  beard,  who  exhibited  the 
grand  salon  to  us,  and  as  there  was  a  guitar  on  the 
table  I  seized  upon  it  and  we  sang  "Santa  Lucia"  in 
duet.  Then  he  sang  another  Italian  song  to  me,  with 
absolutely  killing  glances  from  most  beautiful  brown 
eyes. 

Mary  had  a  thrilling  adventure  yesterday.  She 
found  a  little  boy  of  thirteen  crying  bitterly  on  the 
bridge,  and  it  turned  out  that  he  was  a  refugie  from 
near  Noyon,  that  he  had  lost  his  mother  and  sister  en 
route,  and  for  four  days  had  eaten  nothing  but  four 
sous'  worth  of  bread  and  had  slept  in  empty  boats 
along  the  river.  The  various  French  people  to  whom 
he  had  told  his  story  said,  "Pauvre  petit,"  and  left  it 
there;  but  Mary,  being  of  a  different  type,  took  him  to 
the  Red  Cross  and  thence  to  their  refugee  hotel,  with 
a  regular  feed  thrown  in.  He  apparently  declared 
himself  her  slave  for  life.  She  had  to  go  off,  but  has 
instructed  me  to  get  him  a  book  to  read.  Was  n't  that 
an  adventure? 

May  12 
I  believe  Mother  is  just  sentimental  enough  to  like 
a  "Mother's  Letter"!  It  is  certainly  the  jayest  idea. 


PARIS  BOMBED  167 

If  I  were  in  the  Y.M.C.A.  and  had  to  urge  boys  to 
write  a  "Mother's  Letter"  I  should  die  of  shame. 
And  I  went  to  tea  at  the  Janets'  and  found  two  en- 
listed men  who  had  got  her  name  (as  being  at  home) 
from  the  Y.M.C.A.  and  had  actually  come  because  it 
was  Mother's  Day  and  they  thought  most  likely  Ma- 
dame Janet  was  a  mother!  People  accuse  me  of  being 
sentimental,  but  I  am  nothing  to  these  enlisted  men. 
The  Janets  are  awfully  hospitable.  The  son  has  just 
started  his  military  training,  which  lasts  two  months; 
then  he  goes  to  the  front  as  a  canonnier  for  five 
months  and  returns  to  Fontainebleau  for  the  artillery 
course.  Madame  Lauth's  son  is  doing  the  same. 

Mary  has  come  back  from  her  country  week  in 
blooming  state. 

At  last,  on  Saturday,  Kenneth  got  permission  for 
the  whole  day  the  following  Saturday.  So  all  was  se- 
rene, all  other  arrangements  having  been  made.  But 
when  the  boys  got  to  the  train  to  come  to  Paris  this 
week  they  were  told  that  all  permissions  had  been 
stopped !  Divided  opinion  as  to  whether  it  is  an  epi- 
demic of  mumps  or  a  fresh  offensive.  Of  course,  they 
don't  know  whether  the  permission  he  had  obtained 
for  next  Saturday  will  hold,  or  not.  Is  n't  it  trying? 

May  16 
Last  night  we  had  a  raid,  the  first  in  ages.  We  were 
dining  with  the  Dells  and  were  just  about  to  come 
home  when  the  siren  sounded.  Mary  cleverly  found  a 
taxi  (who  refused  to  take  us,  but  Mary  said  we'd  go 
as  far  as  he  went,  and  he  finally  took  us  all  the  way), 


i68  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

and  then  at  home  we  found  an  American  and  went 
out  on  the  bridge  with  him.  It  really  is  a  pretty  sight, 
you  know:  the  beautiful  night  and  the  flashes  of 
shrapnel.  At  one  juncture  we  thought  we  heard  three 
bombs  drop,  successively  nearer,  so  we  ran  just  as 
fast  as  we  could  in  the  opposite  direction.  Of  course, 
it  turns  out  this  morning  that  the  Gothas  did  n't  get 
over  Paris  at  all.  There  was  another  alerte  at  two  in 
the  morning,  but  we  did  n't  wake  up. 

May  20 
After  more  little  difficulties  in  the  way  of  papers 
and  permissions  than  an  American  would  believe  pos- 
sible, Kenneth  and  Pirie  are  really  married.  Pirie 
has  kept  her  serenity  wonderfully,  to  my  mind,  for 
there  has  been  enough  to  give  her  nervous  prostra- 
tion. Then  Kenneth  did  not  know  —  did  not  even 
think  he  knew  —  that  he  could  have  the  one  day's 
permission  until  the  Monday  of  the  very  week;  and 
no  sooner  did  he  think  he  knew  than  permissions 
were  all  revoked  and  again  he  was  in  absolute  uncer- 
tainty. Two  days  before  the  wedding  Pirie  received 
a  letter  from  the  lawyer  saying  she  must  have  her 
birth  certificate  renewed,  although  this  had  been 
done  six  months  before.  That  strikes  me  as  the 
most  futile  of  all  —  you  are  only  born  once,  after  all. 
Pirie  and  her  brother  had  to  walk  miles  and  miles 
out  of  Paris  to  get  this  certificate  fixed  up,  and  they 
could  not  have  then  if  the  brother  had  not  been  a 
lieutenant  who  could  insist  on  having  the  papers  at 
once.  But  that  was  finally  cleared  up.  The  very  day 


PARIS  BOMBED  169 

before  the  wedding  Pirie  had  a  letter  from  Kenneth 
saying  that  he  did  not  know  whether  permissions 
would  be  granted  again  in  time,  but  that  come  what 
might  he  would  reach  Paris  in  time  to  be  married ;  he 
had  engaged  a  bicycle,  arranged  to  have  a  boy  sign 
the  sick-list  for  him,  and  he  was  going  to  run  away, 
even  though  he  knew  it  would  mean  a  week  or  two 
nominally  in  jail  when  he  got  back  to  school.  And  he 
really  did  have  to  run  away!  He  just  swaggered  past 
the  first  guard,  at  the  school ;  walked  and  ran  through 
the  Forest,  hiding  behind  trees  when  he  saw  any  one 
coming,  reached  the  next  station  below  Fontaine- 
bleau  just  in  time  to  jump  over  the  gate  and  make 
the  train !  Pirie  met  him  in  Paris.  He  waited  till  every 
one  had  gone  through  the  gate  and  then  somehow  got 
into  the  buffet,  where  they  had  lunch  and  then  es- 
caped by  the  back  door!  Was  not  that  romantic  for 
this  age  and  day?  But  poor  Kenneth  was  pretty 
much  all  in  by  the  end  of  Saturday;  he  had  planned 
and  worried  so  much  about  it. 

The  wedding  day  (May  1 8th)  was  the  second  fair  day 
after  weeks  of  cold,  foggy  weather;  it  was  a  perfect 
June  day.  I  got  up  at  five  in  the  morning  and  went 
down  to  the  big  market  to  get  flowers.  It  was  too  de- 
licious down  there,  with  the  rows  and  rows  of  flowers 
of  every  kind  and  color  —  there  must  be  at  least  half 
a  mile  of  them.  Of  course  Kenneth  and  Pirie  did  not 
know  there  were  any  flowers  in  the  church  and  I 
knew  they  would  n't,  but  it  satisfied  my  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things,  and  I  loved  doing  it.  If  you  like  a 
comic  sight  you  should  have  seen  me  staggering  into 


lyo  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  Metro,  along  with  all  the  other  market-women, 
carrying  a  bundle  of  flowers  about  the  dimensions  of  a 
fat  five-}^ear-old  child !  I  did  n't  have  time  to  be  as 
particular  about  arranging  the  flowers  as  I  should 
have  liked  (just  for  myself,  it  made  no  difi^erence  to 
any  one  else) ,  for  we  were  supposed  to  be  at  Pirie's  at 
quarter-past  nine,  to  go  with  the  happy  pair,  Madame 
Pire,  tw'o  brothers  and  sisters-in-law,  infant  niece  and 
friend,  to  the  Mairie.  "We"  means  Lippy  and  me, 
who  represented  the  American  part  of  the  company. 
Kenneth  looked  his  best,  in  a  new  blue  aspirant's 
uniform  and  French  military  boots  of  soft  leather, 
laced  right  up  to  the  knee.  He  is  so  much  browner 
than  he  was  in  Paris.  Pirie  looked  prettier  than  I  have 
ever  seen  her,  in  a  sky-blue  crepe  de  chine  dress  which 
she  had  made  herself  during  the  last  week  —  on 
nights  when  the  lights  did  n't  have  to  be  put  out  on 
account  of  raids!  It  was  very  simple  and  very  becom- 
ing. She  had  a  very  dark-blue  hat  with  a  little  white 
ostrich  feather  in  it.  She  did  look  darling. 

We  all  met,  as  I  said,  and  went  over  to  the  Mairie 
together.  There  we  were  ushered  into  a  room  with  the 
most  awful  stained-glass  windows,  and  rows  and 
rows  of  crimson  cushioned  benches.  There  were  about 
a  dozen  other  marriages  being  accomplished  at  the 
same  time,  and  the  assortment  of  types  and  of 
clothes  was  very  funny;  there  was  a  beautiful  young 
bride  in  white  satin  and  orange  blossoms,  who  looked 
entirely  misplaced,  and  an  extraordinary  woman  of 
fifty  with  some  kind  of  white  satin  basket  and  enor- 
mous plume  on  her  head,  and  many  another.  We  all  sat 


PARIS  BOMBED  171 

in  rows  and  pretended  we  loved  waiting,  but  it  cer- 
tainly was  not  conducive  to  feeling  the  solemnity  of 
the  occasion.  Every  few  minutes  a  man  would  come  in 
from  the  next  room  and  shout  out:  "Mariage  de 
Smith  et  Jones;  les  deux  futurs,  le  pere  et  mere,  et  les 
quatres  t^moins  avangent!"  Finally  it  was  "Mariage 
de  Pire  et  Gaston,"  and  we  advanced  and  signed  in 
two  large  books  and  returned  to  wait  our  turn  with 
the  Mayor,  who  had  in  the  meantime  come  into  the 
big  room,  very  resplendent  in  dress-suit  and  a  broad 
red,  white,  and  blue  ribbon  across  his  shirt-front.  It 
was  our  turn  at  last,  and  we  went  up  inside  a  little 
fence,  when  to  our  dismay  the  Mayor  got  up  and 
marched  out.  We  waited  and  waited,  with  a  vivid  pic- 
ture in  mind  of  the  minister  and  various  guests  wait- 
ing at  the  church,  and  finally  Pirie's  brother  got  dis- 
gusted and  went  out  to  find  out  what  the  trouble  was 
■ —  the  Mayor  had  gone  to  a  funeral!  Then  Brother 
Pire  turned  round  and  told  all  the  other  waiting  fami- 
lies that  it  was  an  outrage  against  French  Liberty  and 
the  People  and  that  no  free-born  man  should  submit 
to  such  treatment,  and  that  if  they  would  take  his  ad- 
vice they  would  none  of  them  put  anything  into  the 
collection  box  (which  is  passed  round  after  each  mar- 
riage). Then  the  Mayor  came  back;  there  was  a  si- 
lence, and  Brother  Pire  (a  very  smart-looking  lieu- 
tenant) stood  up  and  in  most  eloquent  terms  told  the 
Mayor  exactly  what  he  thought  of  him.  "Monsieur, 
n'insistez  pas,  je  vous  en  prie,"  thundered  the  Mayor; 
but  Brother  insisted  for  all  he  was  worth,  and  three 
times  the   Mayor  banged  on  the  table  and   said. 


172  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

"Monsieur,  n'insistez  pas,"  and  three  times  Brother 
continued  his  harangue  (oddly  enough,  having  all  the 
company  behind  thoroughly  with  him,  which  was  so 
French),  until  with  a  bigger  bang  on  the  table  the 
Mayor  said  that  never  during  his  mayorship  had  he 
been  so  treated  and  that  he  would  not  marry  them  at 
all,  and  out  he  stalked.  You  can  imagine  poor  Ken- 
neth sitting  there,  not  knowing  quite  enough  French 
to  interfere.  After  some  ten  minutes  more  Brother 
went  out  and  appeased  the  Mayor  and  the  marriage 
was  finished  —  the  Mayor  and  the  Brother  shaking 
hands  like  the  best  of  friends  afterwards.  It  was  the 
most  un-American  thing  you  ever  saw. 

When  we  reached  the  church  the  minister  re- 
hearsed them  a  little  and  taught  Madame  Pire  to 
understand,  "Who  giveth  this  woman,"  and  we 
walked  up  the  aisle  after  Kenneth  and  Pirie  —  and 
they  were  married.  Of  course,  all  war  weddings  must 
be  very  affecting;  this  was  the  first  I  had  attended. 
We  signed  another  book,  and  the  deed  was  irrevo- 
cably done.  Then  we  all  went  down  the  Champs 
Elysees  to  a  very  nice  little  restaurant  and  had  a  very 
good  wedding  breakfast. 

Their  return  to  Fontainebleau  was  perilous  — 
Kenneth  was  rushed  past  the  guard  by  this  same 
brother  of  Pirie's,  and  so  forth.  But  I  learned  in  the 
meantime  from  another  Fontainebleau  man  that 
Kenneth  stood  so  very  high  in  the  regard  of  his  lieu- 
tenant that  he  probably  would  not  be  put  in  jail  — 
and  so  it  proved. 


PARIS  BOMBED  173 

May  21 
A  more  discouraged  and  disappointed  daughter 
you  have  never  had.  Yesterday,  when  I  sent  you  a 
cable  saying  I  was  going  to  work  in  a  French  hospital, 
I  had  been  told  I  should  be  sent  to  a  French  hospital 
near  Beauvais,  which  you  can  see  on  the  map  is  very 
near  the  front,  near  Compiegne.  As  you  can  imagine, 
I  was  perfectly  thrilled  and  on  the  top  of  the  wave. 
To-day,  when  I  went  to  start  my  passports,  they  said 
that  they  did  not  want  any  one  in  the  French  hospi- 
tals, after  all,  as  they  had  put  nurses  in,  and  that 
they  had  had  an  urgent  call  from  Limoges  and 
wanted  me  to  go  there.  Well,  I  could  have  refused, 
but  it  seemed  too  idiotic  to  do  so  just  because  of  the 
place,  so  I  signed  up  for  that;  but  I  am  so  disap- 
pointed I  could  cry.  I  don't  want  to  be  in  an  Ameri- 
can hospital,  and  above  all  I  don't  want  to  be  way 
down  there  (almost  at  Bordeaux)  when  I  thought  I 
was  going  in  exactly  the  opposite  direction. 

I  suppose  I  might  now  begin  back  at  the  beginning 
and  tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do.  This  is  the  job  of 
"searcher"  or  "home  communications."  You  try  to 
trace  missing  men  by  talking  to  the  other  men ;  you 
act  as  secretary  to  wounded  men,  writing  home  for 
them  about  their  affairs;  you  write  to  the  families  of 
men  who  die;  and  in  any  spare  time  you  be  a  "little 
Sunshine."  In  a  French  hospital  it  would  have  been 
great  fun;  in  an  American,  I  am  not  a  bit  sure.  How- 
ever, I  am  in  for  it.  The  way  I  came  to  decide  to  do  it 
was  that  I  decided  to  come  home  sometime  before 
Christmas,  and  it  seemed  silly  not  to  see  anything  but 


174  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

an  office  in  Paris  all  the  time  I  was  here.  But  Limoges 
—  Heavens!  That's  where  they  send  French  generals 
who  don't  succeed  with  their  command.  To  say  a 
person  is  Limog6  is  to  say  he  has  had  to  be  got 
rid  of. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  more  or  less  interest- 
ing; can't  help  it.  If  they  had  never  mentioned  Beau- 
vais  I  should  n't  feel  so  badly,  but  that  would  have 
been  perfect. 

I  wish  you  would  find  out  about  the  law  that  if  you 
have  a  brother  in  the  Army  you  can't  get  a  passport. 
However,  I  suppose  if  I  once  get  home  I  might  as  well 
stay  and  get  going  on  something  there.  I  may  say, 
however,  that  I  am  going  to  have  a  vacation  before  I 
start  —  a  good  long  one.  It  will  be  two  years  in  Sep- 
tember since  I  have  had  more  than  three  days'  (except 
the  steamer,  which  I  certainly  don't  count),  and  in 
another  week  it  will  be  a  whole  year  since  I  have  had 
more  than  one  day  and  a  half  at  a  time.  But  now  that 
I  am  going  on  that  theme,  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
about  the  beginning  of  my  trip  to  Blois,  for  it  goes  to 
show  that  resting  is  silly.  Friday  night  I  did  n't  get  to 
bed  till  one  and  it  takes  me  an  hour  to  go  to  sleep. 
Saturday  was  Kenneth's  wedding  in  the  morning, 
work  in  the  afternoon,  and  then  I  dressed  and  went 
to  the  station,  hoping  against  hope  not  to  be  too  late 
for  the  seven  o'clock  train  for  Blois,  where  Mary  al- 
ready was.  Found  the  train  had  been  shoved  ahead 
an  hour  and  did  n't  go  till  eight,  was  n't  due  to  arrive 
till  eleven,  and  was  always  late.  All  the  afternoon  I 
had  been  so  tired  that  I  thought  I  should  burst,  and 


PARIS  bombed;  175 

I  almost  did  n't  go,  anyway,  and  when  I  found  (not 
till  after  I  had  vainly  tried  for  a  seat  in  every  com- 
partment in  the  two  great  long  sections  of  the  train) 
that  the  hour  was  postponed,  I  almost  went  home 
again,  for  the  compartment  was  second-class,  all  the 
other  passengers  men  who  were  eating  sausages  and 
hard-boiled  eggs  for  supper,  and  I  pictured  myself 
arriving  at  Blois  in  the  pitch  blackness  with  a  cross 
station-master  and  no  possible  method  of  getting  to 
the  hotel.  But  then  I  said  to  myself,  "You  will  never 
be  middle-aged  and  in  Paris  again,  free  to  be  as  much 
of  a  fool  as  you  please,  with  no  one  to  bother  about 
you ;  you  better  go  to  it."  I  went  to  it.  The  train  was 
hotter  than  Tophet,  but  we  all  managed  to  sleep  most 
of  the  way  down,  and  I  arrived  at  half-past  eleven 
feeling  almost  completely  rested !  There  were  loads  of 
people  at  the  station  and  I  spied  at  once  a  very  nice- 
looking  sergeant,  of  whom  I  inquired  the  way  to  the 
Hotel  de  France.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  travelling  as 
an  American,  and  when  I  allowed  I  was  he  took  me 
through  the  exit  for  Americans  (Americans  here  means 
Army),  where  I  was  duly  registered,  and  then  he  found 
me  such  a  very  nice  first  lieutenant,  medical  (who 
had  been  for  three  months  near  the  British  front), 
who  escorted  me  to  the  Hotel  de  France.  That  was 
my  first  experience  of  an  Army  town,  and  it  was 
certainly  a  very  agreeable  one.  But  the  point  is  that 
I  felt  as  rested  as  possible  by  the  time  I  got  to  bed; 
so  in  spite  of  appearances  I  would  have  been  more  of 
an  idiot  to  have  stayed  in  Paris  than  I  was  to  go 
down.  Ten  Eyck  was  the  object  of  the  trip  —  he  came 


176  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

up  from  the  place  he  is  at  —  and  he  really  was  nice 
enough  to  warrant  a  great  deal.  One  of  the  very 
best. 

Wednesday  morning 
I  have  just  been  to  see  about  my  costume,  and 
had  the  second  blow  —  the  blue  linen  dresses,  which 
sound  so  nice,  are  absolutely  formless,  literally,  and 
then  tied  in  by  a  narrow  sash  —  no  fit  —  just  like  a 
full-length  smock,  only  a  scanter  skirt.  However,  I 
think  the  whole  thing  will  be  fun.  The  R.C.  represen- 
tative there  is  Mr.  Russell  Tyson.  We  came  home  in 
191 1  on  the  steamer  with  him.  So  that  will  be  nice. 
And  a  great  friend  of  Ten  Eyck's  is  there.'  It  is  a  Yale 
unit!  They  give  me  a  suit,  two  blouses,  two  dresses, 
and  hat,  and  four  hundred  francs  a  month  on  which  I 
am  supposed  to  be  able  to  live;  also  travelling  ex- 
penses. Going  to  Dr.  Blake's  this  afternoon  to  be 
inoculated. 

May  22 
Had  an  alerte  last  night,  with  some  very  snappy 
barrage  fire.  When  the  shrapnel  began  bursting  al- 
most overhead,  we  took  the  advice  of  a  couple  of 
French  officers  (the  French  really  do  know  when  to 
come  in  out  of  the  rain)  and  went  under  the  bridge 
with  fifteen  or  twenty  Americans  —  they  are  so  nice 
and  polite!  It  was  the  most  beautiful  warm  night 
flooded  with  moonlight  —  misty  down  the  end  of  the 
river.  I  shall  never  forget  these  moonlight  nights 
under  the  bridge,  with  the  beautiful  curves  reflected, 


PARIS  BOMBED  177 

and  occasional  red-and-green  lights  on  boats.  No  bomb 
dropped  in  the  city,  though  every  one  thought  one 
was,  there  was  such  a  terrific  crash. 

May  24 
It's  all  right,  after  all!  Or  is  unless  they  change 
again.  I  am  not  to  be  Limogee  after  all,  but  am  to  be 
in  a  French  hospital.  It  will  be  in  every  way  the  most 
thrilling  and  satisfying  climax  for  my  whole  trip  — 
to  be  able  to  do  for  our  own  men  and  yet  be  with  the 
French.  Nothing  could  be  better.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
I  feel  about  it.  .  .  . 

I  am  too  thrilled  to  write.  I  am  sitting  in  an  arm- 
chair waiting  for  Lieutenant  Skinner  to  dictate,  but 
he  is  talking  on  the  telephone  with  Lieutenant  Bou- 
langer,  and  Mr.  Bugatti  has  just  come  in  with  a  cable, 
evidently  bringing  good  news,  so  I  'm  afraid  the  dic- 
tation will  not  come  for  some  time.  In  the  meantime 
I  was  hoping  to  get  off  at  six  because  Mary  and  Syl- 
via and  I  are  going  to  dine  together  somewhere.  But 
what's  that  to  me?  —  I  am  not  for  Limoges. 

You  know,  lots  of  men  seem  to  think,  still,  that  the 
war  will  be  over  this  fall,  and  almost  every  one  says 
that  in  three  months'  time  we  shall  know  a  lot  more 
about  the  end  than  we  do  now.  If  the  offensive  fails, 
—  and  it  will,  —  the  Germans  have  nothing  to  look 
forward  to  except  increasing  numbers  of  Americans. 
We  never  get  any  decent  accounts  of  things  here, 
though  I  was  surprised  to  learn  from  Eleanor  of  the 
things  that  you  don't  know  over  there.  Mary  says 
they  were  never  in  the  papers  here,  either.  I  suppose 


178  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

I  don't  realize  how  many  things  are  in  the  air  and 
not  on  paper.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  various 
things,  n'est-ce  pas,  that  are  on  paper  when  they 
should  be  in  the  air. 


CHAPTER  V 

AFTER  CHAtEAU  THIERRY 

May  30 
Here,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  I  am  —  still  in 
Paris.  I  thought  I  would  surely  have  left  for  my 
French  hospital  by  this  time,  but  all  passes,  for 
women  who  are  not  nurses,  for  the  region  of  Beauvais 
have  been  held  up  for  some  time,  and  goodness  knows 
if  I  shall  ever  get  off;  we  may  all  be  leaving  Paris  in 
the  opposite  direction  before  that  time.  That,  of 
course,  is  one  of  those  over-statements  employed  as 
wit  by  dull  minds.  I  am  all  shopped  and  packed  and 
ready  to  go  on  a  moment's  notice. 

In  the  meantime  the  German  offensive  is  the  only 
thing  in  the  world,  set  off  by  the  long-range  gun, 
though  that  held  off  to-day  at  half-past  six  for  tw^elve 
hours  at  Papal  request,  because  it  is  Corpus  Christi 
Day.  But  it  banged  a  couple  of  times  very  early  and 
is  going  every  twenty  minutes  now,  tant  pis. 

To-morrow  I  am  beginning  at  eight  in  the  morning 
at  the  Ambulance  —  having  overheard  Mrs.  Vander- 
bilt  say  she  could  barely  get  in  to  the  Memorial  Day 
service  because  she  was  so  hard  at  work  making  beds. 
So  I  have  unpacked  my  uniform  and  had  my  caps 
starched  and  shall  leave  the  house  at  seven  to-morrow. 
Eleanor  Cotton  was  to  come,  too,  but  was  requisi- 


i8o  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

tioned  by  the  Red  Cross  for  night  canteen  for  refugees 
at  the  Gare  de  I'Est,  so  she  went  off  at  half-past  eight 
to-night  and  returns  at  half-past  seven  to-morrow 
morning. 

I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  say  anything  about  the 
offensive,  for  everything  you  ought  to  know  will  be  in 
your  papers.  The  Air  Service,  according  to  Mary,  feel 
more  confident  about  this  attack  than  the  last. 

June  7 
I  am  open  to  congratulations  on  not  being  a  trained 
nurse  by  profession.  I  did  it  for  six  days  and  I  never 
was  so  tired  in  my  whole  life  —  my  back  ached  so  I 
thought  it  would  break  in  two  —  the  only  thing  that 
buoyed  me  up  was  the  thought  that  I  should  probably 
never  have  to  do  it  again.  From  eight  to  quarter  of 
seven,  I  sat  down  only  about  twenty  minutes  for 
hmch,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  I  made  beds  and  gave 
bed  baths  and  scrubbed  tables  and  walked  back  and 
forth  from  the  ward  to  the  storeroom  and  hot-water 
tap  (about  half  a  mile)  without  a  pause  —  except  for 
some  removing  of  old  dressings  and  bandaging  on 
new  ones,  taking  temperatures  and  serving  meals  — 
never  again ! 

In  the  hospital  which  is  arranged  for  seven  hundred 
we  had  about  thirteen  hundred  men  —  most  of  them 
not  very  badly  wounded,  and  a  fair  number  just 
gassed.  All  the  corridors  had  a  continuous  row  of 
beds,  end  on  end,  and  that  made  a  great  many.  I 
was  in  an  improvised  ward  (no  big  table,  chairs,  or 
cupboard)  of  twenty  beds,  and  made  a  lot  of  the 


AFTER  CHATEAU  THIERRY         181 

corridor  beds,  too.  The  boys  were  mostly  full  of  pep 
and  crazy  to  get  back  to  the  front  —  they  are  sur- 
prisingly bloodthirsty  and  treat  the  whole  question 
of  "bumping  off"  and  being  "bumped  off"  as  the 
best  joke  in  the  world.  They  are  utterly  cheerful. 
They  all  look  very  young  and  pink  and  white  —  so 
much  younger  than  the  French. 

The  rush  has  slacked  off  now,  half  the  corridor  beds 
being  empty,  and  I  am  back  on  histories  as  I  was  last 
year  —  only  I  am  also  historian  in  the  operating- 
room,  which  will  be  very  interesting  when  I  know  the 
doctors  a  little  so  that  I  can  watch  a  bit  more  closely. 
Of  course,  every  day  I  expect  to  be  off  to  my  French 
hospital,  but  the  pass  is  still  being  held  up.  I  am  living 
most  inconveniently,  having  packed  everything  to 
start  at  once  two  weeks  ago.  Everything  is  in  a  per- 
fect mess. 

Yesterday  at  Tosca  one  of  the  old  blesses  —  not 
one  I  ever  had  much  to  do  with,  except  that  he  was  a 
great  pal  of  H.  Fish's  —  came  all  the  way  across  the 
house  to  talk  to  me  —  you  'd  never  find  an  American 
taking  all  that  trouble  and  doing  such  a  cute  thing. 
However,  don't  imagine  I  don't  think  more  highly  of 
"  our  boys"  than  of  the  French,  for  I  do  —  but  they 
certainly  lack  the  social  qualities.  The  French  may 
only  put  on  their  interest  in  you,  but  if  they  put  it  on 
successfully  and  continuously,  I  don't  know  why  it 
is  n't  just  as  good.  If  you  believe  their  friendliness 
genuine,  it  is  so  for  you. 


i82  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Same  day,  1 1  p.m. 
Operati?ig-room,  Neuilly 

On  Thursday  I  left  a  calm  hospital,  with  nearly  all 
the  corridor  beds  empty.  At  half-past  two  to-day  I 
found  every  bed  full,  the  nurses'  home  turned  into 
wards,  two  tent  wards  on  the  roof,  even  the  ground- 
floor  corridor  double  lined  with  men  on  stretchers  and 
a  double  line  down  to  the  operating-room.  I  went 
there,  to  work,  and  found  four  cases  at  once  being 
done  just  as  rapidly  as  possible,  with  two  doctors, 
etherizer  and  nurse  for  each  case  —  none  of  whose 
names  I  knew,  but  all  of  which  had  to  go  down  on  the 
operating-slip.  My  job  is  far  the  hardest  I  have  done 
yet.  I  have  to  find  out  from  the  patient  how  long  ago 
he  was  wounded  —  that  means  noticing  every  time 
one  comes  in  and  seizing  on  him  before  the  ether- 
izer gets  him;  then  I  put  down  his  name,  doctors* 
names,  hour  of  beginning,  how  much  ether  given, 
hour  of  ending ;  and  then  catch  the  doctor  at  the  one 
moment  when  he  can  give  me  his  attention,  after  he 
has  stopped  operating  and  before  he  goes  to  wash  up, 
in  time  to  get  the  diagnosis  and  operating  notes  dic- 
tated and  written  on  two  slips  and  one  slip  pinned 
to  the  patient  before  the  stretcher-bearers  hustle  him 
off.  Every  one  is  hurrying  at  top  speed  every  second 
—  except  the  operating  surgeons :  they  are  wonder- 
ful in  the  personal  way  they  speak  to  each  man  before 
he  is  etherized,  and  in  their  patience  and  politeness  to 
every  one. 

It  just  makes  you  sick:  these  rows  and  rows  of 
waiting  boys  and  the  thought  of  all  the  acute  pain 


AFTER  CHATEAU  THIERRY        183 

that  is  being  constantly  distributed  from  the  operat- 
ing-room throughout  the  hospital.  I  have  caught 
ghmpses  of  all  sorts  of  terrible  things;  but  every  one 
is  so  busy,  including  myself,  that  I  don't  get  a  chance 
to  really  see  what  is  going  on. 

It  is  now  seven  in  the  evening,  Saturday.  I  was  on 
yesterday  from  half-past  two  to  nine  and  this  morn- 
ing from  eight  to  twelve  and  have  just  come  on  for 
the  night.  They  will  relieve  me  to-morrow  if  they  can. 
Of  course,  if  I  can't  stay  awake  I  can  go  off  and  let  the 
etherizers  take  the  notes  as  they  have  heretofore. 

Oh,  dear  —  it  is  too  horrible !  To-day  we  have 
mainly  Marines  after  the  two  days'  glorious  fight 
they  have  put  up  north  of  Chateau  Thierry,  and 
we  get  them  only  a  few  hours  from  the  battle-field. 
The  Americans  are  a  great  crowd :  the  finest  stuff  in 
the  world. 

Just  now  there  is  just  one  very  serious  operation  go- 
ing on  and  the  room  is  as  quiet  as  a  church.  But  when 
there  are  four  there  is  always  some  one  going  under  or 
coming  out,  and  the  room  resounds  with  groans  and 
shouts  and  curses  and  cries  of  "Give  me  my  gas 
mask,"  or  "Kamerad,"  and  sometimes  shrieks  of 
laughter  —  it  is  rather  terrific. 

All  the  boys  are  keen  to  get  back  and  have  another 
whack  at  the  "Dutch."  One  doctor  said  to-day: 
"Well  the  Dutch  rather  got  you  this  time,  didn't 
they,  my  boy?"  The  boy  swelled  with  pride  and  said, 
"Yes;  but,  oh,  doctor,  you  just  ought  to  have  seen 
the  Dutch!" 

Last  night  when  every  one  went  to  supper  I  had 


i84  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

quite  a  chat  with  one  of  the  nicest  Marines  you  ever 
saw  —  perfectly  delightful  —  they  are  so  clean-cut. 

June  9 
Monday  night,  ten  o'clock,  at  home,  thank 
Heaven.  Saturday  night  turned  into  Sunday  morning 
with  the  stream  absolutely  steady  —  three  or  four  op- 
erations all  the  time.  When  at  about  half-past  three 
in  the  morning  some  one  drew  the  curtain  and  opened 
the  window  on  a  marvellous  deep  violet-blue  sky  with 
the  trees  coal  black  against  it  and  a  fresh  breeze,  it 
was  more  than  one  could  bear  with  equanimity  —  so 
heavenly  outside  and  so  horrible  inside  —  all  the  blood 
and  the  hacked-up  flesh,  and  the  thought  of  how  each 
one  is  going  to  suffer  when  he  gets  out  of  ether. 

At  midnight  hostilities  cease  for  half  an  hour  and 
every  one  gropes  his  way  down  to  the  dining-room  for 
a  regular  meal.  Then  a  new  shift  of  doctors  and  nurses 
comes  on.  My  job  is  not  as  tiring  as  the  ward  work, 
except  that  I  stand  all  the  time.  At  half-past  seven  we 
have  breakfast,  and  by  that  time  I  was  pretty  much 
all  in,  so  I  went  off  slightly  later  —  but  the  operating 
went  right  on.  I  slept  as  best  I  could  that  day  and 
went  on  again  at  half-past  eight  Sunday  night;  but 
the  convoys  had  stopped  coming  in,  for  the  time,  so 
that  the  operating  was  over  at  half-past  eleven.  The 
rest  of  the  night  I  washed  rubber  gloves,  and  then 
copied  the  operations  into  a  book.  Every  operation 
gets  recorded  three  times!  —  Army  regulations.  Of 
course,  I  was  much  less  tired  this  morning  (though  it 
was  a  much  longer  night,  because  so  monotonous), 


AFTER  CHATEAU  THIERRY        185 

and  I  slept  pretty  well  from  about  half-past  eleven  to 
six ;  nevertheless,  I  was  very  glad  to  get  a  note  at  six 
saying  I  need  n't  come  till  nine  to-morrow.  I  don't 
know  what  that  means,  but  anyhow  I  have  the  night 
for  sleeping.  I  am  glad  to  have  fait  le  service  de  nuit, 
because  it  is  so  extraordinary,  but  I  hope  I  shan't 
have  to  keep  it  up. 

I  get  an  odd  half -hour  or  so  almost  always  to  talk 
to  the  boys  and  enjoy  it  immensely.  I  write  letters 
for  them  occasionally  —  they  are  mostly  very  inar- 
ticulate, but  I  found  one  very  gloomy  Irishman  from 
County  Cork  (and  Chicago)  who  dictated  a  vigorous 
and  fluent  letter  to  his  mother,  still  a  resident  of 
Cork,  and  told  her  just  what  he  thought  of  the  Ger- 
mans for  bringing  misery  on  the  whole  worrld  and 
making  us  all  travel  from  home  —  in  the  richest 
brogue.  Another  man  I  have  talked  to  is  an  Irishman 
from  Charlestown,  Massachusetts. 

About  every  tenth  man  can  hardly  talk  English; 
and  at  least  fifty  per  cent  have  absolutely  foreign 
names. 

I  feel,  often,  rather  hopeful  that  the  war  may  be 
over  in  four  or  five  months. 

I  must  find  a  spot  to  lie  down  on. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL 

June  19 
As  you  will  know  by  cable  before  this  reaches  you,  I 
am  off  for  Limoges  after  all :  Base  Hospital  No.  24. 

So  this  is  farewell,  Paris.  Well  —  some  day  I'll 
come  back  and  show  you  the  sights  —  my  sights.  At 
Limoges  you  can  at  least  think  of  me  as  being  as  safe 
as  in  Wisconsin. 

I  am  actually  in  the  train,  with  my  luggage  all 
checked.  Of  course,  as  the  train  has  n't  started,  some- 
thing may  happen,  but  Fate  has  only  six  minutes 
left.  I  am  going  to  a  town  where  I  know  slightly  one 
man,  whom  I  may  never  see,  have  met  one  other  (Mr. 
Tyson,  my  chief),  and  that's  all.  It  is  quite  an  adven- 
ture; more  of  a  one  in  the  way  of  people  than  Beau- 
vais,  as  I  know  several  girls  there,  but  not  so  much  in 
the  way  of  bombs  and  Germans. 

The  train  is  really  moving.  I  have  had  a  wild  two 
days  getting  packed  and  saying  good-bye  to  people. 
Sunday,  Mary  and  Louisa  and  I  went  out  to  our  same 
old  hillside  for  lunch.  In  the  evening  Eleanor  and  I 
went  to  hear  "Werther"  sung.  Monday  I  went  to 
the  A.R.C.  and  got  all  kinds  of  instructions,  rounded 
up  my  uniform,  applied  for  my  ticket,  etc. ;  said  fare- 
well to  Aviation,  and  went  to  supper  with  Sylvia  and 
her  sister. 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  187 

June  21 

The  trip  —  the  latter  half  —  was  lovely.  Banks 
flooded  with  blue  lupin,  pierced  with  spikes  of  crim- 
son foxglove  or  blotched  with  scarlet  poppies  — 
fields  and  fields  of  poppies  and  daisies.  The  country 
shortly  before  Limoges  is  like  the  lower  Berkshires  — 
round  Limoges  itself  it  is  quite  lovely,  too.  I  made 
friends  with  a  Red  Cross  doctor,  who  came  and  called 
on  me  in  the  train  and  helped  me  off  with  my  lug- 
gage. Mr.  Tyson  met  me,  and  he  really  is  the  most 
friendly,  optimistic  person  I  have  seen  for  some  time. 

But,  oh  me,  oh  my,  the  hospital  seems  so  quiet  and 
so  healthy  after  Neuilly!  About  four  fifths  of  the  men 
are  up  —  and  a  man  in  bed  is  so  much  easier  to 
please!  However,  Mr.  Tyson  is  doing  every  kind  of  a 
thing  here,  and  I  can  relieve  him  of  the  detail  of  the 
searching  for  missing  men.  .  .  . 

The  refugee  conditions  here  are  terrible.  The  doc- 
tor I  saw  on  the  train  is  here  to  investigate  them,  and 
last  night  he  told  me  things  that  would  make  you 
sick.  One  house  he  went  into,  right  near  the  hotel, 
had  a  big  room  with  no  beds  or  even  chairs,  just 
straw,  where  twenty-two  men  and  women  had  lived 
since  last  November  —  no  possibility  of  the  slightest 
privacy  and  no  bathroom  arrangements  of  any  kind 
—  not  even  a  basin  to  wash  your  face  in.  If  you  let 
your  imagination  loose  on  that  room  you  will  about 
hit  it. 

The  night  I  came  we  went  over  to  some  long,  shed- 
like barracks  where  the  refugees  were  lying  on  mat- 
tresses —  again  men,  women,  and  children  all  to- 


i88  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

gether.  There  was  one  woman  with  six  children, 
down  to  a  babe  of  two  months,  who  had  been  refu- 
giee  twice.  The  population  of  Limoges  has  more  than 
doubled  in  a  year,  so  you  can  imagine  what  it  is  to 
find  work  for  these  people  —  or  anything  else. 

Ever>'thing  is  fearfully  expensive,  and  at  any  price 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  a  room.  I  am  getting  a 
real  war  breakfast  now  —  coffee,  without  milk,  and 
two  slices  of  bread!  No  butter,  and  jam  an  extra. 

Yesterday  afternoon  we  went  to  see  a  Mrs.  Havi- 
land,  who  is  from  Cambridge  and  whose  husband  is 
head  of  the  apparently  famous  porcelain  factories 
here.  She  has  a  flat  converted  into  a  hospital  for 
French  soldiers  which  she  runs  absolutely  herself  — 
twenty-five  beds  —  and  they  give  her  the  worst  cases 
that  come  through. 

It  is  a  cold  rain  to-day  and  I  wish  I  were  at  home; 
or  even  in  Paris.  Well,  I  shall  be  before  many  months. 

June  22 
It  has  cleared  off,  and  as  I  sit  on  my  broad  window- 
sill  I  see  a  great  half-circle  of  grassy  or  wooded  hills 
with  a  little  gap  in  the  middle  where  I  suppose  a 
river  runs.  To-morrow  being  the  Sabbath  I  shall  take 
a  half-day  off  and  investigate  the  country-side.  It 
would  be  a  perfect  place  for  picnics  if  only  Mary  were 
here.  Limoges  itself  is  high  and  the  air  delicious. 

The  "searching"  is  quite  exciting.  The  first  day  I 
came  on  a  murder  and  a  desertion ! 

Thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  the  pictures  of  J., 
which  I  can  see  are  very  good  —  and  yet  I  should 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  189 

never  know  him.  The  moustache  and  no  Sam 
Browne  belt  make  him  look  unfamiliar  as  himself  and 
as  a  type  —  why  no  belt?  Except  for  that  he  looks 
grand  in  his  uniform.  Awfully  glad  to  have  the  pic- 
tures. 

June  27 
Ma  chere  petite  soeur  — 

Cette  lettre  a  6te  commencee  il  y  a  peut-6tre  un 
mois  ou  plus  —  mais  enfin  j 'arrive  a  vous  I'expedier. 

Je  vous  ecrive  un  petit  mot  ce  soir  "pour  vous  don- 
ner  mes  nouvelles  qui  sont  toujours  bonnes,"  as  any 
poilu  would  say,  et  pour  vous  apprendre  que  je  viens 
de  m'installer  dans  une  maison  particuliere  chez 
des  gens  more  than  particular.  J'ai  une  toute  petite 
chambre  au  rez  de  chauss6c  qui  donne  sur  un  beau 
jardin  avec  des  arbres  derriere.  Le  pere  de  famille 
est  administrateur  des  ceuvres  publiques  pour  les  mu- 
til6s  de  guerre  (frangais).  C'etait  bien  amusant  —  la 
mere,  avec  qui  j'ai  parle  la  premiere  fois  que  j'y  suis 
venue,  a  bien  voulu  me  prendre  comme  lodger,  mais 
le  lendemain  lorsque  je  suis  revenue  pour  dire  que  je 
viendrais,  elle  m'a  dit,  "Mais  6coutez,  Mademoiselle! 
Mon  mari  absolument  ne  veut  pas  —  il  crains  ne  pas 
avoir  un  coin  a  lui,  et  une  jeune  fille  —  et  une  Am6ri- 
caine  —  tout  ga  serait  tres  genant  —  et  surtout  il 
avait  peur  que  vous  apporteriez  des  microbes  de 
I'hopital  et  que  le  petit  (a  strapping  lad  of  fourteen) 
attraperait  quelque  chose."  And  finally  that  "mon 
mari"  would  rather  pay  my  board  and  lodging  else- 
where than  have  me  in  the  house.  But  later  in  the 


190  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

day  Madame  came  dashing  up  to  the  hospital  to  say 
that  she  had  decide  her  husband  by  telhng  him  that 
if  they  did  n't  take  me  I  should  have  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  street,  as  the  hotel  would  not  keep  me  — 
to  which  he  exclaimed  "Quelle  horreur!  Fetch  the 
dame  k  I'instant"  —  et  comme  ga,  me  voil^. 

Eh  bien,  c'est  maintenant  onze  heures  et  demie  et 
il  faut  absolument  me  coucher.  Ici  je  suis  un  peu  loin 
de  I'hopital ;  mais  vous  n'avez  aucune  idee  comme  la 
ville  est  pleine  de  gens  Strangers  —  des  refugies  et 
des  Am^ricains. 

Un  de  ces  jours. 

June  29 
Je  vous  ai  racont6  comment  le  pdre  avait  peur  que 
"le  petit"  attraperait  quelque  maladie  et  qu'il  m'a 
demande  de  bien  desinfecter  mes  mains  avant  de  re- 
venir  le  soir,  mais  je  ne  vous  ai  pas  dit  qu'il  etait  sflr 
qu'en  me  baignant  dans  un  tub  (que  je  les  avals  pre- 
venu  etait  tout  n6cessaire)  j'eclabousserais  le  par- 
quet et  les  murs !  Ainsi  chaque  matin  la  bonne  vient 
me  dire  que  la  cuisine  est  a  ma  disposition,  et  j'y  vais 
poser  mon  tub  sur  un  parquet  de  pierre.  Je  mets  la 
cuvette  dans  le  sink  et  le  tub  a  cote,  et  voila  —  et  des 
rangs  de  casseroles  en  cuivre  me  benissent  des  murs. 
Je  vous  assure  j'y  suis  tres  bien. 

(J'ecrive  tout  en  mangeant  des  tres  bons  chocolats 
que  m'a  donne  cet  ange  d'homme,  M.  Tyson.) 

I  wish  you  could  look  in  on  me  in  my  little  room, 
with  its  bed  right  under  the  big  window  —  just  like 
a  tuberculosis  patient,  I  remarked  to  Madame  to- 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  191 

night  and  got  a  shuddering  "Oh,  I  hope  not."  I  had 
forgotten  her  sensibilities.  But  really  she  and  Pere  are 
most  cordial,  kind-hearted,  and  genial.  My  room  has 
a  bookcase  full  of  books,  and  another  of  bound  Illus- 
trations for  years  back,  as  well  as  of  the  present. 

Well,  the  work  is  going  along  all  right,  I  think,  and 
I  enjoy  it,  though  I  have  n't  the  useful  sense  I  had  at 
the  Ambulance.  In  the  mornings  I  either  go  round  the 
wards  with  Mr.  Tyson,  distributing  sometimes  candy, 
sometimes  smokes,  sometimes  magazines,  fruit,  writ- 
ing-paper, or  toothbrushes,  to  all  the  wards  —  some 
twenty,  with  thirty  or  forty  beds  in  each;  or  I  take 
my  "missing"  list  and  the  list  I  have  made  out  from 
the  registrar's  office  of  men  from  the  same  com- 
panies and  go  round  getting  those  men  to  tell  me 
what  happened  to  the  missing,  or,  where  we  already 
know  they  are  dead,  the  "D.D.B.,"  which  I  finally 
found  was  "  Details  of  Death  and  Burial."  The  after- 
noon I  spend  in  writing  out  my  notes,  writing  letters 
for  the  gas,  right  arm  fracture,  or  contagious  cases, 
reading  aloud  to  the  severely  gassed,  and  chatting  by 
and  large. 

To-day  I  rashly  bought  (out  of  my  own  "give- 
away" money)  a  first-class  (much  better  than  we 
needed,  only  there  was  n't  any  other  in  town)  guitar. 
I  had  borrowed  one  for  several  days  for  a  boy  who 
had  played  professionally,  and  the  doctor  was  so 
pleased  with  its  inspiriting  effect  that  he  begged  me 
to  get  the  loan  extended,  and  did  n't  evacuate  the 
boy  for  several  days  more  just  so  he  could  play  to  the 
wards.  As  the  guitar  was  the  priceless  and  unique  pos- 


192  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

session  of  its  owner,  I  hated  to  keep  it,  and  therefore 
bought  the  other.  There  is  already  a  mandolin  at  the 
hospital,  so  they  have  regular  concerts  and  go  round 
from  ward  to  ward.  Two  of  the  wards  I  feel  at  home 
in,  and  individuals  I  know  in  others.  When  the 
Champ  de  Juillet  (Chicago  unit)  opens,  as  it  will  in  a 
week,  I  shall  hardly  have  time  to  do  anything  beside 
the  real  "searching,"  whereas  I  should  prefer  just  to 
do  the  reading  aloud  part  —  except  that  the  other 
serves  as  a  good  introduction. 

I  have  n't  seen  an  aeroplane  or  heard  a  bomb  or 
barrage  since  I  got  down  here,  and  I  must  say  I  miss 
at  least  the  former. 

In  the  lovely,  muddy,  wet,  scrambly  walk  I  took 
last  Sunday  I  lost  my  pocket-book  with  letter  of 
credit  therein.  Luckily,  as  I  started  I  took  out  a  hun- 
dred-franc note  (practically  all  the  money  there  was 
in  it),  my  worker's  permit  (which  serves  as  passe- 
porte),  and  my  bread  ticket,  saying  to  myself  that  if 
some  one  demanded  my  purse  I  would  give  them  that 
but  guard  the  essentials  of  life  —  so  those  I  had  in  my 
belt  and  they  stayed  with  me.  I  trust  I  shall  not  need 
any  more  money,  having  drawn  my  "Flight  out  of 
Paris"  funds,  but  still  will  you  ask  L.  &  H.  to  send 
over  a  new  one  by  mail,  as  I  could  always  cable  if 
I  needed  one  quickly.  I  only  lost  the  sheet  part,  not 
the  little  book. 

Limoges,  July  3 
Did  I  ever  chance  to  mention  the  Zouave  get-up? 
It  varies  in  color  —  sometimes  the  huge  bloomers  are 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  193 

red  and  the  bolero  jacket  black  braided  with  red; 
sometimes  the  whole  is  dark  blue ;  and  sometimes,  of 
course,  they  dress  like  Christians.  But  to-day  I  saw 
the  winner,  in  bloomers  (not  as  big  as  usual),  jacket 
and  waistcoat  of  most  brilliant  blue;  the  jacket  heav- 
ily bound  and  decorated  with  bright  yellow;  sash  and 
cap  of  scarlet.  Quite  stunning. 

To-day  I  talked  with  a  most  pathetic  ambulance 
man  of  forty.  I  was  just  walking  by  his  bed  —  I  did 
not  know  him  at  all  —  when  he  said,  "Wait  a  min- 
ute, I  want  to  show  you  something."  So  he  untied  a 
newspaper  package  and  got  out  some  photographs  of 
an  utterly  shapeless,  ugly  barn,  and  a  few  cows, 
which  he  said  was  home  —  a  ranch  in  Texas.  One 
photograph  was  of  a  woman  leaning  on  a  stick,  feed- 
ing the  ducks,  and  that  was  his  aunt,  who  had 
brought  him  up.  His  uncle  and  sister  Nellie  had  both 
died  since  he  left,  and  this  poor  rheumatic-y  old  lady 
is  all  alone  to  manage  the  farm  which  is  their  sole 
means  of  livelihood.  He  had  half  a  dozen  letters  with 
the  photographs,  and  said  with  satisfaction  that  a 
fellow  that  had  all  those  letters  was  pretty  lucky  — 
and  the  worst  part  of  that  is  it 's  true :  so  many  of  the 
boys  have  been  here  three  or  four  months,  and  be- 
cause they  have  moved  many  times,  or  for  some  rea- 
son, have  never  received  a  word  from  home.  Well, 
then  he  gave  me  a  letter  he  wanted  me  to  read,  and 
you  never  heard  anything  so  pathetic  —  it  was  an 
account  of  the  "deth"  of  Nellie  by  "newmony,"  and 
how  uncle  "  grief ed  and  weped"  so  that  he  had  an  at- 
tack of  heart  trouble  during  the  funeral,  had  to  leave 


194  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  church,  and  died  before  his  wife  got  back  from 
"bering"  her  "nece"  in  the  "semitary."  Then  it 
tells  how  kind  every  one  was  and  what  lovely  "bok- 
ets"  they  had,  and  how  uncle  was  "beried"  two  days 
later;  and  how  she  did  n't  know  what  to  do  about  the 
farm,  but  would  try  to  keep  it  going  till  the  war  was 
over  and  this  boy  came  home  —  chiefly  because 
"Food  will  win  the  war  and  we've  got  to  produse 
all  we  can."  She  really  was  too  pathetic.  The  poor 
man  is  just  crazy  to  get  back  to  the  farm,  where  he  is 
sure  he  would  be  more  useful  than  in  France.  He  says 
he  has  had  shell  shock  twice  and  he  is  too  old  for  the 
work  he  is  doing  —  he  just  hates  it  and  has  none  of 
the  zest  that  the  youngsters  have  for  it.  The  horrors 
are  horrors  to  him  and  nothing  else. 

To-night  at  the  canteen  I  learned  that  Mr.  Tyson 
had  just  heard  he  was  ordered  away.  That  is  an  awful 
blow.  Well,  I  'm  glad  I  got  started  under  him.  He  is  an 
angel  and  most  effective. 

Last  night  I  went  to  the  theatre  with  Mr.  O'Brien 
and  more  than  enjoyed  myself.  The  first  scene  was  in 
a  grocery  store  and  was  perfect.  It  seemed  much  less 
theatrical  than  an  English  piece  does  because,  we  de- 
cided, every  6picerie  is  just  like  a  stage  anyway  —  so 
it  merely  seemed  as  if  we  were  in  any  of  the  regular 
stores  here.  It  was  capitally  acted  and  a  very  good 
show.  I  kept  wishing  for  Father,  he  would  have  loved 
it  so.  Mr.  O'Brien  is  so  agreeable  and  so  radically  in- 
telligent —  or  intelligently  radical. 

It  is  quite  an  affair  to  come  home  after  nine  o'clock 
(bedtime),  for  there  is  only  one  set  of  keys  in  the  fam- 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  195 

ily  and  I  am  not  allowed  to  borrow  them.  So  on  reach- 
ing the  house  I  whistle  the  Marseillaise  under  Mon- 
sieur's window;  he  unbolts  and  opens  the  heavy 
sheet-iron  window  shutters,  throws  out  a  huge  bunch 
of  keys  to  me;  I  select  the  biggest  (five  inches  long), 
unlock  the  garden  gate  twice,  enter  and  re-lock  it 
twice,  select  a  key  four  inches  long  with  two  prongs 
(all  this  being  in  complete  darkness,  I  have  to  choose 
them  by  size  and  shape),  unlock  the  outer  house  door, 
find  the  key  with  three  prongs  and  unlock  the  apart- 
ment door.  I  must  say  to  their  glory,  however,  that 
once  inside  the  first  house  door  you  can  light  an  elec- 
tric lamp  which  goes  out  automatically  at  the  end  of 
five  minutes.  They  have  a  few  practical  things  which 
beat  ours  —  but  very,  very  few. 

I  suppose,  as  usual,  you  want  to  know  just  what  I 
am  doing  from  moment  to  moment,  so  I  will  give  you 
to-day  for  a  starter.  Twenty  minutes  of  nine  went  to 
the  watchmaker's  to  have  bless6's  watch  repaired.  Ten 
minutes  of  nine  to  half-past  ten,  stood  in  line  at  the 
Q.M.'s  to  fill  orders  for  patients.  A  man  came  up  and 
asked  if  I  could  do  anything  about  his  wife,  who  was 
expecting  a  baby  and  for  two  months  had  not  received 
the  allotment  he  made  her,  and  was  very  poorly  off 
in  the  way  of  clothes  for  the  baby.  Took  his  name, 
etc.,  and  promised  to  notify  the  Home  Service  De- 
partment, which  would  have  a  visitor  go  to  his  wife. 
Half-past  ten  delivered  stufT  to  consignees  —  horrible 
amount  of  arithmetic  involved  in  the  payments.  Went 
to  another  ward  and  gave  a  man  green  spectacles  and 
a  razor  —  this  man  and  nine  others  were  in  gas  two 


196  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

hours  before  they  were  aware  of  it.  Their  sergeant 
died  in  three  hours,  and  one  by  one  all  but  three  of 
the  others  died  ("It  was  kind  of  disheartening,"  this 
man  said).  Two  of  these  three  are  here.  They  were 
burned  from  head  to  foot  —  their  hair,  and  even 
their  clothes  burned ;  they  could  not  open  their  eyes 
for  two  months  and  they  still  have  to  wear  colored 
glasses,  are  liable  not  to  be  able  to  keep  their  dinner 
down,  and  are  very  out  of  breath  after  walking  a  hun- 
dred yards  —  though  it  was  about  four  months  ago 
they  were  gassed.  Well,  incidentally,  they  lost  every- 
thing they  had,  and  have  not  been  paid  for  nearly 
seven  months.  I  lent  each  of  them  fifty  francs.  Found 
a  boy  waiting  for  me  and  cashed  a  check  for  him  of 
four  hundred  and  fifty  francs  —  let's  hope  it  was 
good.  Took  some  raspberries  to  a  lad  who  is  still  very 
sick,  though  doing  finely  under  a  new  serum  treat- 
ment. Found  he  had  just  had  transfusion  from  an- 
other specially  nice  boy,  so  I  divided  the  berries  be- 
tween them  and  they  said  they  sure  were  fine.  Talked 
for  some  time  with  a  French  bless6 ;  read  aloud  to  my 
other  very  sick  boy,  who  seems  really  on  his  last  legs ; 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  A.R.C.  about  the  wife  of  the  man 
I  had  seen  in  the  morning,  and  to  him  to  say  I  had 
done  so;  and  then  it  was  twelve  and  time  for  lunch. 
Half-past  twelve  went  to  the  registrar's  office  to 
check  off  certain  lists,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
I  "searched"  for  the  missing  —  search  being  broken 
at  intervals  with  longer  or  shorter  conversations  with 
some  dozen  individuals,  including  the  one  who  wants 
to  go  back  to  the  farm.  Sang  a  little  with  some  of 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL 


197 


them  with  a  guitar  I  bought  with  some  of  Mr.  Brush's 
money,  as  I  guess  I  recounted  before.  "Little  pigs  lie 
with  their  tails  curled  up"  made  a  good  deal  of  a  hit, 
though  not  so  much  as  with  the  French  girls  at  Avia- 
tion, where  it  may  be  said  to  have  had  a  succes  fou. 
After  supper  (at  six)  went  to  see  a  Jewish  "mental 
case"  who  had  professed  a  desire  for  an  Old  Testa- 
ment. .  .  .Talked  a  while  with  a  very  nice  boy  who 
was  putting  himself  through  the  University  of  Wash- 
ington Law  School,  and  intelligent  and  interesting, 
and  with  a  speculative  quality  noticeably  absent  in 
many  enlisted  men.  Then  went  down  to  the  R.C. 
canteen  to  return  the  guitar  we  had  borrowed,  and  to 
get  a  delicious  glass  of  iced  coffee.  Home,  and  sat  out 
in  the  garden  with  the  very  hospitable  and  pleasant 
folk  chez  qui  j'habite. 

To-morrow  is  the  Fourth.  But  I  must  now  go  to 
bed.  I  will  post  this  without  further  ado. 

July  7 
I  have  for  the  first  time  fathomed  the  mystery  of 
why  the  French  think  so  highly  of  putting  wine  into 
water  —  from  a  medical  point  of  view :  it  is  not  that 
the  wine  purifies  the  water,  but  that  it  "cuts"  it 
and  makes  it  less  "cru"  for  the  stomach.  My  good 
kind  landlady  would  hardly  bear  the  thought  of  my 
drinking  two  glasses  of  water  to-night  —  she  was  sure 
it  would  "make  me  harm"  and  wanted  to  put  in  cog- 
nac and  sugar,  or  substitute  beer. 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Mr.  O'Brien  and  me 
yesterday,  driving  through  the  centre  of  Limoges, 


198  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

under  a  stupefying  sun,  in  a  two- wheeled  milk-cart- 
like affair,  very  old,  very  shabby,  and  extraordinarily 
uncomfortable,  behind  a  miniscule  horse  about  a  hun- 
dred years  old  who  would  n't  trot  for  more  than  three 
quarters  of  a  minute  at  a  time  and  would  occasionally 
stall  on  the  car  track  —  and  every  sidewalk  lined  with 
enlisted  men  whose  salutes  the  Lieutenant  returned 
with  an  increasingly  rosy  countenance.  Some  Sun- 
day parade,  I  can  tell  you.  And  if  it  was  n't  saluting 
Americans,  it  was  frankly  hilarious  French  —  and 
oh,  it  was  so  hot!  We  jogged  along,  the  seat  (no  cush- 
ion) getting  more  and  more  unbearable,  and  only  for 
about  twenty  minutes  of  the  whole  trip  did  we  get  any 
shade.  Of  course,  it  was  my  fault  —  I  chose  the  vehi- 
cle —  but  I  did  n't  know  what  it  would  be  like.  At 
the  end  of  the  afternoon  O'B.  confessed  that  he  dis- 
liked being  conspicuous!  In  the  evening  we  went,  in- 
vited, to  see  some  French  friends  of  his  —  very  good 
fun.  There  is  no  doubt  about  it,  the  French  are  infi- 
nitely easier  to  get  on  with,  at  the  first  few  whacks, 
anyu^ay,  than  the  Americans.  They  are  so  responsive 
and  care-free. 

July  15 
East  or  west,  France  or  home,  peace  or  war,  there 
is  nothing  so  recreative,  so  equilibrising,  as  a  dish  of 
talk  with  an  active  and  liberal-minded  person  with 
whom  one  is  in  natural  rapport. 

An  awful  thought  struck  me  this  afternoon,  as  I 
stood  in  our  awful  little  graveyard  in  the  blazing  sun : 
namely,  the  French  cemetery  seems  to  me  to  exactly 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  199 

express  them  —  the  graves  so  close  they  touch,  ter- 
rifically fixed  up  with  real  or  artificial  flowers,  quite 
gayly,  some  very  beautiful  places;  is  it  possible  that 
ours  —  a  bare  vacant  lot  with  a  wooden  fence  round 
it,  not  a  shrub  or  a  tree,  nothing  but  bare  earth,  and  a 
few  flowers,  in  the  glaring  sun  —  expresses  us?  No 
shadows,  no  softness,  no  suggestion  of  mystery? 

To-day  has  been  the  first  unpleasant  day  here  — 
hot  and  breathless.  Ordinarily  the  weather  is  marvel- 
lous —  nights  that  are  almost  cold  and  remind  me  of 
Camp. 

Speaking  of  coincidences  —  do  you  remember  in 
telling  of  that  night  I  spent  in  the  operating-room  I 
mentioned  a  boy  who  said,  when  the  doctor  remarked 
that  the  Dutch  had  rather  got  him,  "  But,  Doctor,  you 
ought  to  have  seen  the  Dutch"?  He  was  one  of  the 
only  two  boys  I  remember  there.  In  the  next  day  or 
two  I  wrote  perhaps  three  letters  for  the  boys,  and  it 
seems  that  he,  entirely  by  accident,  was  one  of  them. 
Yesterday  a  boy  asked  me  to  write  for  him,  and  again 
it  was  he !  We  came  to  Limoges  the  same  day,  and  I 
have  felt  that  he  was  very  familiar,  but  have  only 
just  pieced  it  all  together.  Such  a  nice  boy,  too:  never- 
failing  good-humor  under  very  trying  circumstances. 

One  of  the  pleasant  items  in  the  day's  march  is  the 
walk  to  the  car  in  the  evening  when  the  streets  are 
full  of  children  and  you  feel  now  and  again  a  small,  hot 
hand  squeezed  into  yours  and  hear  "Good-a-bi-ee" 
pronounced  very  softly  and  gravely  by  a  little  person 
of  four  years  or  so. 

Last  night  there  was  such  an  enveloping  tumultu- 


200  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

ous  sunset  of  silver  and  gold  and  purple  and  black, 
later  tinged  with  copper,  as  I  have  rarely  seen  ex- 
celled. It  was  alive  —  a  vast,  stormily  passionate  be- 
ing. 

To  return  to  Sunday  —  at  two  o'clock  O'Brien, 
Lieutenant  and  Madame  Barret,  two  children,  and  I 
moulded  ourselves  into  a  victoria  and  drove  some 
tAvo  or  three  miles  into  the  country  to  the  house  of 
friends  of  the  Barrets.  (Lieutenant  Barret  is  engaged 
at  the  Etat  Major  frangais  here  and  hence  thrown 
much  with  O'B.)  We  were  taken  into  a  room  and  in- 
troduced to  some  ten  ladies  and  two  men  (varying  in 
age  from  one  year  to  at  least  ninety)  and  appointed 
chairs  in  the  precise  circle  around  the  edge  of  the 
room.  I  thought  we  had  got  to  a  spiritualist  meeting, 
but  not  at  all  —  it  was  the  ordinary  lay-out  for  a 
Sunday  afternoon  party.  After  a  bit  the  lady  of  ninety 
rose  and  said  we  would  now  make  a  tour  of  the  gar- 
den. So  we  wandered  through  a  very  pretty  propri^t6, 
the  old  lady  pointing  occasionally  to  a  place  where 
there  were  about  five  trees  deep  of  woodlands  and 
saying  with  conviction,  "You  see,  it  is  quite  sauvage 
here."  However,  farther  on  it  did  more  nearly  ap- 
proach the  sauvage.  The  gentleman  of  the  party  of- 
fered me  his  arm  going  down  a  little  incline  for  fear 
that  I  should  fall,  stopping  every  few  minutes  to  re- 
cite V.  Hugo  or  de  Musset  to  me.  The  whole  party 
screamed  when  I  stubbed  my  toe,  and  after  ten  min- 
utes' ambling  I  was  anxiously  asked  whether  I  was 
too  tired  to  go  farther.  We  returned  to  the  house  and 
admired  the  baby,  the  miniatures  painted  by  the 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  201 

daughter  of  the  house,  and  some  old  enamels.  And 
then  we  sat  round  the  dining-room  table  and  had 
(each  as  a  separate  course)  hot  chocolate,  and  a  kind 
of  rice  custard  and  fruit  pudding,  plum  pie,  cherry 
pie,  and  wine.  As  I  sat  there  and  found  the  French 
wherewith  to  discourse  on  the  girl-who-does  n't- 
have-to-work-but-does-so-all-the-same  of  America,  I 
could  hear  O'B.  struggling  with  the  semi-circular 
canals  and  their  relation  to  sea-sickness.  WTiat  was 
the  priceless  question  they  asked  him?  Oh,  yes  —  did 
we  have  the  Roman  and  Arabic  numerals  as  they  did ! 
We  talked  French  solidly  from  half-past  one  o'clock 
till  seven. 

July  17 
Every  night  at  seven  I  read  aloud  to  two  eye  cases 
—  a  farmer  boy  (who  has  also  studied  more  or  less 
law)  of  Wisconsin,  and  a  law  student  of  Oregon.  We 
read  about  half  an  essay  of  Emerson  and  then  some- 
thing out  of  the  Literary  Digest  or  sich,  or  O.  Henry  or 
Stevenson.  It  is  great  fun,  but  was  especially  so  to- 
night, for  we  spent  most  of  the  time  in  hot  discussion 
of  the  "Crumps  with  his  grunting  resistance  to  his 
native  devils"  question.  Not  that  we  hit  that  pas- 
sage —  I  wish  I  knew  where  it  was  so  I  could  quote  it 
to  them.  We  had  a  fine  time.  Only  the  farmer  is  a  regu- 
lar evangelicist,  which  rather  cramps  my  style.  He  is 
less  educated  and  less  logical  than  the  lawyer,  but  a 
good  sort. 

There  is  quite  a  thunderstorm  going  on,  which  puts 
me  in  mind  of  dear  old  Paris  —  only  no  siren. 


202  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

I  'm  sorry,  Father,  about  those  silent  letters.  But  I 
just  wish  you  could  see  a  poilu's  spelling  —  it's  much 
worse. 

July  22 
Never  expect  to  write  again  —  there  is  such  a  rush. 
One  hospital  is  too  much  for  one  person  and  the  fact 
that  I  have  two  simply  means  I  accomplish  nothing 
in  either.  I  'm  going  to  telegraph  for  another  searcher, 
but  probably  shan't  get  one. 

I  must  rush  over  to  the  Y.M.C.A.  now  to  get  books 
for  some  of  the  men. 

Very  entertaining  evening  yesterday  (Sunday) 
chez  les  Barrets. 

Limoges,  July  19,  1918 
I  have  just  parted  with  quite  an  A  No.  i  man  — 
whom  I  enjoy  being  with  from  an  outside,  personal 
point  of  view,  though  I  like  plenty  of  others  very 
much  and  enjoy  them  collectively.  But  I  guess  all  en- 
joyment of  any  of  them  is  over  now,  for  the  other  hos- 
pital filled  up  last  night  and  there  are  a  great  number 
coming  to  us  to-morrow  morning;  so  I  shall  have  to 
attend  strictly  to  the  business  of  searching,  and  let 
the  rest  go.  So  we  had  the  last  of  our  Emerson  par- 
ties to-night  —  we  have  read  "Fate,"  "Considera- 
tions by  the  Way,"  "Power,"  and  "War,"  the  second 
seeming  to  us  far  the  best.  It  has  been  great  fun  and 
we  have  had  some  hot  discussions. 

Did  I  tell  you  I  found  a  boy  who  goes  up  to  Saranac 
in  summer?  I  showed  him  the  camp  pictures  in  the 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  203 

F.C.P.  book  and  we  thrilled  over  them  together  — 
and  I  lent  him  M.'s  picture  of  Saw  Tooth,  just  to 
make  him  homesick. 

I  have  spent  the  afternoon  with  two  of  the  boys, 
wandering  through  the  grounds  of  a  little  chateau  — 
have  to  go  with  them  to  see  that  they  demean  them- 
selves calmly,  and  I  had  a  hard  time  keeping  them 
from  picking  some  magnificent  great  magnolia  blos- 
soms. We  had  a  good  time  watching  the  women  wash 
sheep's  wool  in  the  courtyard  wash-pool,  and  eating 
semi-wild  raspberries  and  currants.  The  boys  loved  it 
and  we  wished  all  the  convalescents  could  come.  If 
the  Red  Cross  ever  gets  a  truck  we  can  easily  arrange 
some  picnic  parties,  but  the  hospital  ambulances  are 
too  busy  and  most  of  the  boys  are  not  able  to  walk 
very  far. 

I  never  sent  you  Nenette  and  Rintintin,  did  I? 
They  will  protect  you  against  Gothas  and  their 
American  equivalent.  They  were  originally  in  wool, 
but  these  are  a  touch-on-wood  charm,  too. 

I  have  had  a  thoroughly  good  time  this  week,  for  I 
know  and  am  known  at  last.  But,  as  I  say,  the  pleas- 
ant part  is  over.  I  think  when  I  come  back  I  will  learn 
to  do  something  for  shell-shock  patients ;  I  'm  afraid 
there'll  be  plenty  of  them,  poor  lads. 

The  news  to-day  and  yesterday  is  so  good  that  I 
am  laying  large  bets  the  fighting  will  be  over  by  Feb- 
ruary 1st.  I  go  round  the  wards  in  the  morning  now 
and  shout  out  the  latest  communique  from  the  French 
morning  paper  —  the  English  ones  don't  reach  us 
from  Paris  till  the  evening.  Seventeen  thousand  pris- 


204  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

oners  including  two  colonels  and  their  6tats-majors  is 
pas  mal.  It  is  too  thrilling.  What  would  n't  I  give  to 
be  in  Paris  now! 

Tell  every  one  with  friends  here  to  send  snapshots 
of  every  kind  of  thing,  all  the  time:  the  boys  love 
them. 

July  30 
As  the  hospital  is  chock-a-block  and  my  work  is 
piled  up  feet  high  around  me  and  everything  in  a  per- 
fect mess,  this  seems  a  good  chance  to  write  a  letter.  I 
can  never  by  any  remote  chance  do  any  of  the  things 
I  am  supposed  to  with  anything  approaching  com- 
pleteness, so  what's  the  odds? 

There  are  so  many  things  to  write  of  that  there  is 
no  use  trying  to  take  them  up  in  an  orderly  way. 
These  last  ten  days  have  been  very  trying,  in  a  way, 
through  my  own  idiotic  habit  of  believing  every- 
thing I  am  told.  We  had  three  hundred  men  in  one 
night  straight  from  the  front,  who  said  that  Soissons 
had  been  taken,  Soissons  and  Rheims  brought  to- 
gether, the  bulge  cut  off,  and  all  the  Germans  therein 
taken  prisoner.  So  I  got  fearfully  excited  and  have 
been  having  a  horrible  reaction  ever  since  —  as  it,  of 
course,  was  n't  true.  But  a  whole  lot  has  been  done, 
and  the  news  right  along  is  good,  though  slow.  One 
trouble  with  a  place  like  this  is  that  you  are  out  of 
touch  with  the  men  who  do  know  something  of  how 
things  are  really  going.  Here  you  have  either  the 
medical  officers  or  training-camp  men,  who,  of  course, 
don't  know  any  more  than  you  do  except  by  superior 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  205 

intelligence;  and  you  have  the  men  in  from  the  front 
whom  you  inevitably  believe  and  who  are  almost  al- 
ways wrong. 

This  morning  I  went  down  to  see  a  hospital  train 
unloaded.  I  and  Marcella  Burns  (a  new  and  emi- 
nently noteworthy  acquisition)  crashed  aboard  and 
had  a  fine  look  at  the  marvellous  arrangements  of  our 
great  sanitary  trains  before  we  were  told  it  was  for- 
bidden to  be  there.  I  will  tell  the  world  that  train  was 
something  to  see,  with  its  sixteen  great  cars  all  shin- 
ing and  new  with  big  red  crosses  on  the  sides,  the 
comfortable  swinging  bunks,  beautifully  complete 
pharmacy  and  medical  supply  room,  office  and  type- 
writer, little  room  that  can  be  used  for  emergency 
operations,  and  kitchens  at  either  end.  But,  oh,  dear, 
oh,  dear  —  the  boys  when  they  were  brought  out  on 
stretchers  on  to  the  station  platform  and  lay  in  rows 
waiting  to  be  put  on  to  trucks  were  too,  too  sad.  I 
don't  know  why  they  are  so  much  more  touching  when 
they  are  on  stretchers  than  afterwards  in  bed,  but 
they  are.  We  gave  them  all  cigarettes  and  I  lighted 
them  and  finally  got  so  the  match  did  n't  blow  out 
every  time  before  the  cigarette  caught.  One  boy  al- 
most cried  when  I  gave  him  his  cigarette,  apparently 
just  at  the  sound  of  a  human  voice  talking  English. 
Several  Sundays  I  have  been  out  to  different  little 
training  camps,  and  they  all  say  the  same  thing  — 
that  it  sounds  so  good  to  hear  English  spoken  —  just 
as  if  they  did  n't  hear  their  own  comrades  talking 
all  the  time.  Apparently  real  English  is  spoken  only 
by  a  woman. 


2o6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

I  don't  think  I  ever  told  you  about  any  of  these 
little  camps,  did  I  ?  I  happened  on  one  my  first  Sun- 
day, 'way  up  in  a  little  village  on  top  of  a  high,  high 
ridge.  Some  French  girls  I  met  en  route  and  walked 
along  with  insisted  that  there  were  Americans  up 
there  who  had  dances  every  Sunday,  and  that  I  cer- 
tainly ought  to  go  to  see  them.  So  they  led  me 
through  the  tiny  village  of  only  a  score  or  so  of 
houses,  radiating  from  a  very  picturesque  old  church, 
and  sure  enough,  there  in  a  field  was  a  circus  tent 
with  "Y.M.C.A."  on  it  — the  first  rural  "Y"  I  had 
seen.  It  had  much  the  air  of  a  real  circus,  as  the 
whole  village  was  there  in  its  Sunday  bonnet.  A 
phonograph  was  playing,  some  one  was  singing,  and 
there  was  a  little  candy  counter  in  one  corner.  I 
talked  with  several  nice  boys,  one  of  whom  (because 
we  were  both  from  Boston)  bought  me  some  candy.  I 
was  n't  in  uniform  and  they  almost  fell  over  back- 
ward when  they  heard  me  speak  English. 

In  another  little  camp  I  arrived  just  before  supper 
and  was  given  a  cup  of  their  coffee  out  of  a  great 
boiler  in  the  mess  tent.  The  mess  sergeant  was  a  great 
friend  of  mine,  for  we  had  once  talked  together  in  the 
street-car  on  the  occasion  of  his  bringing  a  little 
French  girl  to  Base  Hospital  24  to  have  her  toothache 
cured.  Do  you  know,  all  these  highly  colored  descrip- 
tions and  vSentimental  magazine  cover  pictures  of  the 
American  soldier  and  the  little  French  child  are  per- 
fectly true !  You  see  it  all  the  time.  Every  night  I 
pass  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  right  beside  a  barracks,  where 
there  is  a  small  green  with  a  low  stone  wall  around 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  207 

it,  and  a  great  round  fountain  in  the  middle,  and  it 
certainly  is  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  place  filled  with 
Americans  sitting  on  the  wall  and  around  the  foun- 
tain, with  children  in  their  laps,  hobnobbing  with 
French  of  all  ages  and  sexes,  but  especially  with 
wounded  French  soldiers.  The  Americans  and  French 
get  on  beautifully  —  the  people  in  these  small  places 
are  wonderfully  hospitable  and  friendly  to  the  boys, 
and  the  boys  seem  to  do  by  instinct  just  the  kind  of 
little  thing  the  French  like.  I  remember  one  tale,  I 
forget  who  told  me,  of  a  village  where  a  very  poor  sol- 
dier died.  The  family  could  not  afford  anything  much 
in  the  way  of  a  funeral,  and  there  was  almost  no  pro- 
cession to  the  cemetery.  The  coffin  and  few  mourn- 
ers happened  to  pass  a  group  of  our  boys,  who  at  once 
stood  at  attention  and  then  fell  in  behind  and  marched 
with  them  to  the  cemetery.  Well,  it  took  tremen- 
dously and  the  whole  village  would  do  anything  for 
the  boys  after  that. 

To  return  to  the  camp  by  the  river.  The  mess  tents, 
two  or  three  of  them,  are  right  by  the  river  on  the  very 
water's  edge,  and  you  don't  know  how  picturesque 
it  was  to  see  the  boys  file  down,  mess  tins  in  hand,  to 
get  their  supper,  and  then  seat  themselves  on  the 
stone  wall  all  along  the  river  to  eat  their  hot  stew, 
soda  biscuits,  and  coffee :  —  sunset  reflected  in  the 
river  —  old  arched  bridge  —  little  stone  village  on 
the  steep  hill  above  —  all  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
know. 

I  was  with  a  nurse  from  Alabama  and  we  had  quite  a 
rally  of  the  boys  from  the  two  sections  of  the  country. 


2o8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Do  you  know,  I  am  becoming  very  enthusiastic 
over  my  job!  Not  over  the  job  as  it  is,  but  over  what 
it  might  be  and  will  be  if  the  personnel  we  have  asked 
for  goes  through :  two  men  and  two  women  (search- 
ers) for  each  hospital,  six  workers  for  each  hospital 
hut  (of  which  there  is  to  be  one  at  each  hospital  to 
replace  the  "Y"),  a  warehouse  and  a  truck.  I  can't 
begin  to  tell  you  of  the  difficulties  we  labor  under  at 
present  in  the  way  of  no  supplies  and  no  money, 
though  I  am  beginning  to  feel  as  if  I  had  the  pitcher 
of  Baucis:  I  have  a  number  of  times  given  away  liter- 
ally all  the  money  I  had  except  the  price  of  a  ticket  to 
Paris  and  a  franc  for  car-fares,  and  I  always  find, 
the  next  time  I  look,  from  five  to  twenty  francs  in  my 
pocket.  "Is  n't  that  lovely?"  as  Jeanne  de  N.  would 
say. 

It  is  very  late  to-night,  for  I  have  been  trying  to 
plan  my  monthy  report,  which  has  to  be  made  out 
according  to  schedule.  It  is  difficult  to  say  just  what 
Red  Cross  supplies  I  have  given  out,  as  in  this  I  have 
worked  almost  entirely  with  the  A.R.C.  Hospital  rep- 
resentative. Captain  Tyson  or  Captain  Barnes.  To- 
gether we  have  distributed  through  the  twenty  wards 
approximately  the  following:  1760  magazines;  645 
French  morning  papers;  120  tins  of  Q.M.  candy;  1800 
handfuls  of  cherries;  560  ** Newspaper"  boxes  of 
cigarettes  and  tobacco ;  50  picture  puzzles  (and  inter- 
changed these  a  number  of  times) ;  enough  stationery 
for  the  wards.  Besides  these  general  supplies  I  have 
given  to  special  cases  for  the  Red  Cross,  approxi- 
mately: 42  pounds  of  fruit;  30  quarts  of  cold  drinks; 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  209 

100  new  books  (also  interchanged  those  already  given 
out  —  about  40  in  each  ward) ;  3  cartons  of  cigar- 
ettes; 300  empty  Red  Cross  bags;  150  toothbrushes 
for  cases  with  specially  bad  mouths;  36  razors,  with 
soap  and  brushes;  2  sets  of  breakfast  china  for 
Nurses'  Home;  60  francs  to  men  who  had  not  been 
paid  for  many  months.  I  have  written  about  a  hun- 
dred letters  for  or  about  patients;  reported  about  six 
cases  to  Home  Service  Department  in  Paris ;  found  in 
the  hospital  some  six  men  on  enquiry  lists;  sent  re- 
ports to  Paris  on  about  thirty-five  men  from  missing 
lists.  These  figures  apply  to  Base  Hospital  24  only, 
and  cover  the  period  from  June  19  to  July  31,  as  I 
have  done  nothing  for  Base  13  except  collect  some 
old  magazines  from  24  for  them  and  help  Captain 
Lent  distribute  three  thousand  plums  one  day.  Base 
28  is  now  open  also,  but  it  is  at  too  great  a  distance 
for  me  to  attempt  to  do  anything  there. 

Then  I  am  going  to  add  to  this  report  that  if 
there  were  two  searchers  in  a  hospital  of  nine  hun- 
dred or  a  thousand  beds,  instead  of  one  searcher  for 
two  of  that  size;  that  if  there  were  a  large  stock  of 
supplies  and  a  more  get-at-able  revolving  fund,  — 
every  boy  would  be  known  individually  to  the  Red 
Cross  and  his  special  needs  —  whether  they  be  for 
the  various  necessities  he  lost  when  he  went  over 
the  top,  or  for  the  advance  of  part  of  the  pay  he  has 
not  received  (again  because  he  has  been  in  the  thick 
of  action),  or  for  somebody's  eyes  or  arms  to  replace 
his,  or  for  Home  Service,  or  for  some  one  just  to  talk 
to  —  could  be  met. 


210  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

To-day  I  received  a  most  beautiful  trophy.  One  of 
the  boys,  whom  I  was  n't  aware  of  even  having  seen 
before,  came  up  with  me  to  my  office,  saying  he  just 
sort  of  thought  he  would  —  he  'd  took  the  idea  to 
come  —  and  once  up  there  he  presented  me  with  a 
seal  ring  which  he  took  from  a  prisoner  he  had  taken 
himself.  It  is  a  beauty  —  a  black  stone,  oblong,  with 
coat  of  arms.  The  lad  said  he  had  no  relations  to  give 
it  to  and  he  was  just  going  back  to  the  front  anyway, 
and  would  probably  be  killed.  So  I  have  it. 

When  I  get  home  (that  is  now  my  one  tune)  the 
thing  I  shall  make  in  odd  time  is  comfort  bags  — 
just  the  empty  bags.  Every  boy  simply  insists  on 
having  one  and  when  you  have  twenty-four  dozen 
made  at  a  time  from  Red  Cross  money  you,  of  course, 
get  the  cheapest  strong  stuff  you  can;  whereas  in 
making  relatively  few  you  could  make  them  of  really 
pretty  stuff. 

August  2 
I  shall  never  get  the  smell  of  wounds  out  of  my 
nose !  Reading  to  the  poor  man  whose  eyes  are  in  such 
an  awful  state  almost  makes  me  sick.  To-morrow 
night,  quite  against  my  inclination,  I  am  going  with 
the  nurses  to  a  dance  given  by  all  the  men  around.  I 
shall  not  enjoy  it,  for  no  one  will  dance  with  me. 

August  3 

I  did  not  go  to  the  dance  after  all.  Instead,  Mar- 

cella  Burns  and  I  walked  out  of  the  town  a  way  and 

had  a  very  simple  supper  in  a  garden,  looking  out 

over  a  deep  gully  with  a  baby  river  in  the  bottom. 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  211 

and  a  golden  sunset  over  high  hills;  then  we  walked 
through  the  gullies  and  over  the  hills  for  a  couple  of 
hours  —  much  pleasanter  than  a  dance  could  be.  To- 
morrow we  and  our  respective  Red  Cross  captains  are 
going  out  into  the  country  for  lunch  —  it  being  Sun- 
day and  we  in  need  of  recreation. 

My  shoes  and  stockings  arrived!  And  the  shoes 
had  silk  stockings  in  them!  with  E  C  P  in  bleue 
blanc  rouge  on  them!  I  showed  them  to  the  boys  in 
the  office  and  they  were  very  envious  and  agreed  that 
the  E  C  P  was  the  touch  beyond.  I  am  going  to  wear 
them  to-morrow.  At  last,  last  week  I  bought  two 
pairs  of  cotton  stockings  at  six  francs,  and  one  wore 
through  the  second  day.  And  they  are  just  like 
boards,  whereas  these  are  deliciously  soft. 

I  hope  it  will  be  clear  to-morrow  so  I  can  wear  my 
new  shoes. 

August  7 
It  was,  and  I  did,  feeling  like  a  perfect  dude.  I  have 
just  learned  that  J.  is  at  Tours.  I  shall  try  to  get  there 
next  Sunday,  but  am  not  sure  I  can  work  it. 

I  am  dead  to  the  world  to-night  and  came  home  to 
go  to  bed  early,  leaving  my  poor  blind  man  unread 
to.  However,  I  hulled  and  sugared  and  fed  to  him  a 
big  dish  of  strawberries  this  morning,  and  yesterday 
we  had  quite  a  long  talk  on  the  war  and  what  he  could 
do  afterwards,  which  I  think  set  him  going  a  bit, 
though  it  did  n't  exactly  cheer  him.  He  had  sunk  into 
a  sort  of  lethargy  and  would  hardly  speak  —  he  still 
feels  bitter,  but  that  is  not  quite  so  bad. 


212  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Just  had  a  telegram  from  Jamie  saying  "Serai  k  la 
gare  Tours  dimanche  10.15.  Bien  aise  vous  voir"  —  so 
I  shall  go. 

A  letter  from  Kenneth  (who  is  with  the  French 
Army  near  Soissons)  says:  "Now we  are  all  much  en- 
couraged. All  the  recent  events  are  in  our  favor;  the 
advance,  the  unrest  in  Germany,  the  continued  up- 
heavals in  Russia  and  the  Ukraine,  the  distress  in 
Austria,  and  the  brilliant  success  of  the  Americans 
most  of  all.  The  Colonel  of  the  Foreign  Legion  said 
that  in  all  his  experience  he  had  never  seen  troops  at- 
tack the  way  they  did.  All  the  French  are  enthusias- 
tic, it  cheers  them  up  enormously.  The  turning  point 
has  certainly  been  passed." 

August  13 
It  is  horribly  late  and  I  have  spent  most  of  the  past 
twenty-four  hours  on  the  train,  but  if  I  don't  now  give 
you  the  outlines  of  my  trip  to  Tours  I  never  shall. 

Saturday  evening,  ten  o'clock,  I  went  bag  in  hand 
to  the  Red  Cross  canteen  in  the  station,  and  slept 
there  very  comfortably,  though  all  dressed,  till  two, 
when  I  had  a  dash  of  food  and  took  the  train.  Slept 
more  or  less  in  the  train,  reached  Ch^teauroux  at 
half-past  five.  Excellent  breakfast  of  chocolate,  scram- 
bled eggs,  bread  with  p^t6  and  jam,  and  a  doughnut 
(all  for  a  franc),  and  a  wash  and  brush.  Train  at 
half-past  six  for  Tours.  In  first-class  carriage  with  a 
French  aviator  and  an  American  officer,  engineer. 
No  one  at  home  would  believe  the  kind  of  conversa- 
tions you  have  with  casual  acquaintances  over  here. 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  213 

We  had  a  good  time  and  talked  most  of  the  way  to 
Tours,  except  for  an  hour  or  so  when  I  slept  with  his 
musette  for  a  pillow.  We  discussed  wives  and  babies 
—  particularly  his,  women  and  men's  characteristics, 
the  boys  and  what  they  do  in  France,  human  nature 
in  general,  etc.  He  is  an  engineer,  and  more  recently 
an  illustrator,  and  is  now  camouflaging  batteries. 
Wife  is  illustrator. 

Reached  Tours  at  half-past  ten,  and  it  certainly 
was  good  to  see  J.'s  beaming  face,  topped  with  his 
overseas  cap.  I  have  taken  some  snapshots  of  him  for 
you.  We  walked  up  the  street,  talking,  to  the 
Y.W.C.A.  where  I  got  a  room,  had  a  bath,  etc. 
Lunched  there  and  then  went  out  to  see  the  hospital. 
He  certainly  is  well  located,  and  I  have  never  seen 
him  seem  better  or  happier.  Everything  seems  to  suit 
him  to  a  T.  Saw  his  room,  etc.  —  but  he  will  have 
told  you  all  about  it.  And  as  we  talked  we  ate  some 
very  good  maple-sugar  fudge,  if  I  do  say  so,  which  I 
started  for  him  and  my  kind  and  generous  landlady 
finished  as  well  as  making  him  a  "buche"  —  a  big 
cake-roll  with  chocolate  in  the  cracks.  Walked  round 
the  little  village  he  is  in,  and  then  went  to  Aviation 
Hq.  to  see  if  Colonels  G.  or  D.  were  there  —  which, 
of  course,  they  were  n't.  But  the  boy  gave  me  some 
hope  of  flying  if  I  went  out  to  the  field,  so  we  went 
and  walked  for  miles  and  miles  and  miles  and  miles, 
till  we  finally  got  there.  But  the  CO.,  adjutant,  etc., 
were  out.  We  had  a  good  chance,  however,  to  see  two 
types  of  Nieuport,  a  Salmson,  Caudron,  Bregu6t, 
and  Liberty,  both  on  the  ground  and  in  the  air.  It 


214  <^N  DUTY  AND  OFF 

was  great  sport.  The  guard  said  he  feared  there  was 
no  chance  of  being  allowed  to  fly,  but  I  could  see  the 
ofticer  in  charge  the  next  morning  between  five  and 
nine.  Back  and  dined  extremely  well  and  went  to  a 
short  bit  of  movie.  Got  to  bed  about  midnight. 

Seven  o'clock  Monday,  J.  arrived,  also  a  hack,  and 
we  drove  out  to  the  champ  d'aviation  again  and 
talked  with  the  very  nice  officer  in  charge  of  flying, 
but  all  in  vain.  Army  regulations  —  nurse  recently 
killed  at  Issoudun  —  severe  court-martial,  etc.,  etc. 
So  all  we  saw  was  more  flying  —  but  let  me  tell  you  it 
was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  row  of  machines  drawn 
up  in  line  out  in  the  centre  of  the  field,  with  the  sun 
shining  on  the  morning  haze. 

During  the  day  I  visited  the  A.R.C.  office;  we  had 
our  pictures  taken  on  a  post-card  so  that  you  could 
see  that  you  had  two  children  in  uniform  in  France, 
and  after  lunch  Jamie  worked  his  passage  past  the 
M.P.  and  we  took  the  train  for  Amboise.  I  will  not 
tell  you  about  the  castle,  nor  about  the  castle  of 
Chenonceau  to  which  we  motored,  for  you  know  them 
better  than  I  do.  I  was  to  take  the  train  at  the  lat- 
ter place  at  half-past  four,  but  as  the  train  was  an 
hour  and  a  half  late  we  had  bread-and-butter  and 
coffee  at  a  pretty  cafe  hard  by  —  where  two  engi- 
neers, first  lieutenants,  insisted  on  shaking  my  hand 
when  they  found  I  was  American.  Said  they  must 
just  once  "shake  the  hand  of  an  American  woman  in 
France."  Finally  got  the  train,  sharing  compartment 
with  a  very  nice  Frenchman,  wife  and  child,  and  at 
first  two  Americans,  later  a  Frenchman.  The  whole 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  215 

trip  from  Tours  to  Vierzon  was  supposed  to  be  four 
hours,  and  in  that  time  they  managed  to  lose  three 
and  a  half  hours,  so  I  lost  my  connection  at  Vierzon, 
though  I  had  an  hour  and  a  half  leeway.  The  others 
were  in  the  same  box,  but  we  were  lucky,  for  the  car 
we  were  in  was  left  on  the  track  and  we  spent  the 
night  in  it  instead  of  on  the  floor  of  the  waiting-room 
already  solid  with  poilus,  or  trying  in  vain  to  get  a 
room  after  midnight  in  some  hotel.  Slept  very  well, 
really.  At  six  took  train  for  Limoges  —  got  off  and 
had  breakfast  again  at  the  Chateauroux  A.R.C.  can- 
teen, and  finally  reached  Limoges  at  three.  But 
my,  what  a  journey  —  hot  and  simply  never-ending! 
Wherever  four  or  five  houses  were  gathered  together 
they  called  it  a  stop,  and  every  stop  was  three  quar- 
ters of  an  hour  long.  I  was  alone  most  of  the  way,  and 
just  lay  and  dozed  —  having  broken  my  spectacles 
the  day  before.  Just  at  first  I  had  an  exhausted  avia- 
tor to  guard  and  wake  up  at  Issoudun. 

J.  certainly  gave  me  a  fine  time  and  fed  and  drove 
me  royally.  It  was  great  to  see  him.  We  could  n't 
either  of  us  see  that  the  other  had  changed  a  particle. 
But  he  certainly  seemed  happy  as  a  clam  at  high 
tide.  I  hear,  by  the  way,  that  the  brother  law  is  ofi^,  so 
I  may  come  back ;  but  I  '11  go  to  La  Fauche  for  a  look 
around,  all  the  same. 

Some  of  the  boys  were  so  nice  about  saying  they 
were  glad  to  see  me  back.  The  trip  was  worth  it  be- 
cause I  found  out  how  glad  I  was  to  get  back  to 
B.H.  24  if  for  nothing  else! 


2i6  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

Limoges,  August  22 
It  is  after  eleven  and  I  have  just  come  in  from  the 
most  heavenly  drive  en  auto  —  a  farewell  party.  We 
(four  A.R.C.  representatives)  started  about  half-past 
five  or  so  for  Eymoutiers,  which  was  supposed  to  be 
about  an  hour's  drive  along  the  Vienne.  Of  course  we 
made  a  few  mistakes  in  the  road,  so  we  took  a  good 
while,  but  it  certainly  was  lovely  looking  down  from 
the  steep,  high  side  of  the  river  valley  at  the  river  it- 
self —  fairly  broad,  but  with  stones  to  ripple  over  — 
and  the  high  banks  opposite.  Everything  so  green 
and  luxuriant  despite  weeks  and  weeks  of  drought. 
And  every  little  while  little  valleys  would  open  up 
back  into  the  hills.  About  quarter  of  seven  the  engine 
began  to  gasp,  and  finally  stopped  short,  leaving  us  in 
front  of  a  cottage  and  somewhere  near  St.  Leonard. 
Complete  lack  of  gasoline;  and  gasoline  is  not  easily 
come  by  over  here,  I  assure  you  —  almost  impossible. 
Well,  we  thought  there  were  Americans  at  St.  Leon- 
ard and  the  cottagers  told  us   that  was  only  five 
hundred  yards  beyond  —  but  how  to  get  there  with- 
out the  wearisome,  time- taking  process  of  walking? 
Suddenly,  from  the  middle  of  a  hedge  a  bit  farther 
on  there  appeared  an  old  fairy,  disguised  as  a  peasant 
woman,  waving  in  her  hand  a  quart  bottle  of  gaso- 
line. Where  she  came  from  and  how  she  divined  that 
we  wanted  gasoline,  I  don't  yet  know.  She  said  we 
could  probably  get  some  from  the  Americans,  though 
most  of  them  had  gone,  and  could  refill  her  bottle  and 
leave  it  at  the  patisserie  Petit  Jean!  It  was  miracu- 
lous. We  pushed  the  car  up  to  the  top  of  the  rise  so 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  217 

the  gasoline  would  flow  into  the  engine,  and  reached 
St.  Leonard  all  right,  only  to  learn  that  the  last 
American  officer  had  left  this  morning.  As  we  were 
wondering  what  we  could  possibly  do,  along  came 
a  U.S.  car  with  two  Americans  and  a  French  inter- 
preter and  American  wife,  who  without  hesitation 
told  us  that  the  nearest  place  to  get  gasoline  was 
Limoges.  Then  the  clever  enlisted  man  bethought 
him  of  a  wrecked  U.S.  Ford  on  the  green  a  few  yards 
beyond.  He  found  that  there  really  was  gasoline  in  it, 
and  he  drained  it  off  for  us  —  just  about  enough  to 
get  home  on !  But  they  roared  with  laughter  when  we 
said  we  were  going  to  take  supper  in  Eymoutiers  and 
recommended  our  going  back  to  Limoges,  as  nearer. 
So  we  decided  to  sup  at  St.  Leonard,  where  we  were 
—  a  very  old  village,  on  top  of  a  hill  with  a  gorgeous 
view  over  hill  and  dale  —  and  at  the  moment  a  gold 
and  flame  sunset  behind  the  blue  mountains. We  hap- 
pened on  a  hotel  where  various  American  officers  had 
stayed,  where  they  not  only  cheerfully  agreed  to  light 
the  fire  and  give  us  omelette,  fried  potatoes,  steak, 
bread  and  fresh  butter,  jam,  sponge-cake  and  coffee, 
but  offered  to  find  a  Y.M.C.A.  man  for  us  to  see 
about  gasoline.  He,  luckily,  had  a  friend  who  had  a 
cousin  who  kept  a  garage,  and  he  got  us  some  more 
gasoline.  So  we  had  no  fear  in  going  home.  Now, 
was  n't  that  an  extraordinary  tale  of  good  luck?  If 
anything  had  happened  at  a  different  time  or  spot  we 
should  still  be  on  the  road  to  Eymoutiers.  Well  —  the 
supper  was  absolutely  excellent :  the  coffee  the  best  I 
have  had  over  here  —  American,  of  course,  as  well  as 


2i8  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

the  sugar  —  the  sponge-cake  as  good  as  you  could 
ask  —  we  each  had  a  big  piece  and  they  were  so  re- 
gretful that  they  had  n't  known  we  were  coming  so 
they  could  have  made  us  a  big  cake,  for  they  knew 
Americans  all  loved  cake.  This  is  certainly  the  coun- 
try in  which  to  get  delicious  meals  in  little  villages. 
Imagine  if  we  went  to  a  place  in  America  one  third 
the  size  of  Cotuit,  at  quarter  of  eight  of  the  hottest 
day  of  the  year,  when  the  kitchen  fire  was  out,  and 
asked  for  dinner,  what  cordial  response  we  should 
meet,  and  what  food! 

We  decided  it  was  too  late  to  go  on  to  Eymoutiers, 
and  so  came  straight  home  by  a  shorter  and  less 
beautiful  road ;  but  we  were  sorry  we  did  n't  go  on, 
because,  though  we  had  no  lights,  it  was  very  plain 
driving  in  the  full  moonlight  and  the  only  vehicles  we 
met  were  American  camions.  I  never  saw  a  more  radi- 
ant, overflowing,  moonlight  night  —  and  so  cool  we 
were  almost  too  cold,  after  a  scorching  day.  There 
are  several  outdoor  moments  over  here  which  I  shall 
never  forget,  and  this  is  one  of  them. 

It  is  now  after  midnight  and  I  must  go  to  bed. 
Work  has  been  going  well  lately.  Yesterday,  to-day, 
and  to-morrow  I  am  doing  up  the  wards  fairly  thor- 
oughly, spending  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour  in 
each.  I  start  off  for  a  group  of  four  or  five  wards  with 
a  great  big  market-basket  so  laden  down  that  I  can 
hardly  carry  it.  This  time  I  had  an  A.R.C.  bag 
(empty),  a  clean  piece  of  tape  for  his  dog  tag,  a  shav- 
ing-brush, and  razor  blades  for  every  boy  that  needs 
them ;  several  little  English-French  dictionaries,  decks 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  219 

of  cards,  one  picture  puzzle  for  each  ward  (Father's, 
by  the  way,  I  gave  out  when  I  first  came  and  was 
awfully  glad  to  have  them  because  the  ones  ordered 
had  n't  come),  and  about  three  cakes  of  chocolate 
and  two  cans  of  sliced  apple  per  ward  —  these  latter 
two  items  for  sale.  You  can  buy  only  very  little  choc- 
olate at  a  time  here.  Then  I  had  a  few  combs. 

I  have  been  to-day  with  Nick  Costello  (the  boy 
who  gave  me  the  ring  and  has  since  become  my 
shadow,  helping  me  distribute  my  wares,  running  er- 
rands, etc.)  to  see  some  French  people  with  whom  he 
has  made  great  friends.  Such  a  nice,  honest  young 
couple,  who  received  us  with  great  cordiality  and 
gave  us  excellent  coffee  with  rum  in  it.  They  have  a 
little  girl  of  four  years,  to  whom  Nick  is  devoted  — 
she  sat  in  his  lap  all  the  time  we  were  there.  There 
was  such  a  friendly,  simple  relationship  between  him 
and  this  family;  he  has  been  to  their  house  a  great 
deal. 

On  Eastbound  train 

August  28 

If  you  will  forgive  my  jiggly  train  handwriting,  I 
will  tell  you  about  the  money  which  Cousin  Fanny 
so  super-angelically  gave  me.  It  is  all  spent  already! 
And  I  don't  believe  that  sum  ever  gave  more  pleas- 
ure. I  cashed  it  all  in  five-franc  notes  and  then  went 
to  every  boy  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  hos- 
pital and  pursued  the  following  conversation : 
Me:  "Have  you  as  much  as  five  francs?" 
Boy  (with  first  a  look  to  indicate  that  I  am  mildly 


220  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

crazy,  and  then  a  roar  of  laughter):  "Five  francs? 
Gee,  Miss,  I  have  n't  seen  five  francs  in  five  months" ; 
or,  "Me?  Why,  I've  forgotten  what  five  francs  looks 
like";  or,  "Why,  if  I  had  five  francs  I  believe  I'd  be 
well  to-morrow  so's  I  could  go  out  and  spend  it." 

I  never  shall  forget  "the  five-franc  look"  as  long  as 
I  live. 

Those  boys  are  shifted,  just  before  pay-day,  from 
one  front  to  another,  are  wounded  several  times,  per- 
haps, and  go  to  half  a  dozen  hospitals  (so  that  they 
have  n't  been  paid  for  from  three  to  thirteen  months) ; 
they  lose  every  possession  and  every  cent  they  have 
when  they  go  over  the  top,  and  the  result  is  they 
have  n't  a  car-fare  or  the  price  of  a  hair-cut,  even,  let 
alone  enough  to  get  a  meal  once  in  a  while  outside  the 
institution  where  they  are  incarcerated  or  to  go  to  a 
movie. 

Just  after  I  had  been  into  one  of  the  shack  wards, 
where  the  convalescent  cases  are,  I  passed  under 
the  windows  and  I  judge  the  boys  were  having  a 
war-dance ;  at  any  rate  they  were  yelling  with  joy  — 
"Wow,  wow!  Oh,  Boy!"  I  never  enjoyed  anything 
more.  I  only  wished  I  could  have  had  a  recording 
graphophone  and  a  cinema  machine  to  get  the  ex- 
pressions and  tone  of  voice  of  those  boys,  and  then  I 
would  run  it  off  at  the  next  Red  Cross  drive. 

I  don't  know  whether  this  was  the  kind  of  thing 
she  meant  me  to  spend  the  money  for,  but  the  min- 
ute I  heard  it  had  come  to  me  it  flashed  on  me  with 
the  convincingness  of  truth  that  this  was  the  thing  to 
do.  I  hope  she  will  think  so,  too. 


A  U.S.  BASE  HOSPITAL  221 

I  have  acquired  in  the  last  three  months  such  a 
personal  and  enthusiastic  affection  for  the  Army  that 
it  was  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world  to  be  able  to 
supply  an  important  lack  for  the  wounded  of  Base 
Hospital  24. 

[  September  7 
My  boat  is  supposed  to  sail  to-night,  and  I  am  on 
the  train  for  Bordeaux.  I  have  just  said  good-bye  to 
Jamie,  who  joined  me  at  Tours  and  went  along  for  an 
hour  or  so  on  the  train ;  I  hope  he  will  get  back  in  time 
for  his  convoy,  and  not  get  court-martialled  for 
A.W.O.L. 

Such  a  hectic  few  days  as  I  have  passed  in  Paris, 
saying  good-bye  to  every  one,  re-packing,  and  having 
my  passport  made  out  and  visaed  by  fifty  different 
people. 

One  thing  I  did  was  to  call  on  the  Senateur  de 
la  Dr6me  to  try  to  obtain  his  influence  in  securing  a 
bureau  de  tabac  for  Petit.  The  bureaux  are  usually 
given  out  to  widows;  but  as  Petit  has  but  one  leg  and 
only  one  useful  arm,  and  two  aged  parents  whom  he 
must  partly  support,  with  only  his  corporal's  pay  of 
two  francs  a  day,  I  think  he  classifies  as  a  widow.  He 
would  be  just  the  person  for  a  bureau,  for  he  is  as 
bright  as  a  steel  trap  and  has  a  real  social  gift.  Un- 
fortunately the  Senateur  was  not  yet  in  Paris,  so  I  had 
to  content  myself  with  writing  him  a  long  letter.  I 
have  deposited  fifteen  hundred  francs  for  Petit  to 
draw  on  when  he  gets  the  bureau  or  to  help  set  him  up 
in  whatever  metier  he  undertakes ;  I  wish  I  could  have 


222  ON  DUTY  AND  OFF 

gone  down  to  Loriol  to  talk  with  him  about  it,  but  it 
is  too  far. 

I  ought  to  land  about  the  i8th  or  earlier,  and  the 
first  thing  I  shall  have  to  do  is  hire  a  telephone  booth, 
for  I  have  promised  numbers  of  New  York  boys  that 
I  would  telephone  to  their  families  and  tell  them  all 
the  news.  I  am  also  to  see  one  boy's  wife  and  sister 
(and  sing  them  the  song  of  the  "Little  Pigs"),  an- 
other's mother,  and  a  third's  friend.  Then  I  am  laden 
down  with  presents  which  have  to  be  sent  off  to  their 
fond  friends :  perfume,  medals,  sketches,  bits  of  6clat 
from  wounds,  gloves,  hand-made  souvenirs,  etc.,  etc. 
When  I  get  to  Boston  I  have  so  many  families  to  see 
that  I  shall  have  a  regular  Home  Service  office  of  my 
own.  And  only  two  short  months  before  I  am  back 
in  France! 


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